


Have You Met Your Family?

by JoMouse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Bisexual Derek Hale, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Don't copy to another site, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Gay Stiles Stilinski, Kindergarten Teacher Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mistletoe, Pansexual Character, Teacher Stiles Stilinski, Writer Derek Hale, christmas trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Derek and Braeden break up and he moves home at Christmas. When he walks into the house, he finds a stranger in the kitchen.Written for12 Days of 
Sterek.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale's Father/Talia Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale/Original Male Character(s), Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Past Braeden/Derek Hale - Relationship, Peter Hale/Original Female Character(s), Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 61
Kudos: 266
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek, Teen wolf





	Have You Met Your Family?

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and Salutations!
> 
> First and foremost, MASSIVE thanks to the organizers of [12 Days of Sterek](HTTP://12daysofsterek.tumblr.com) for creating this amazing event. Thanks to them also for being so patient with me. I started this story almost as soon as I signed up. I planned it to be a cute little 5K bit of fluff and then, well, these damn boys got away from me.  
> Add to that, the week the stories were first due, we had to put down our family dog, Layla, and I was a wreck. Thankfully, the organizers were super understanding and I can never express my gratitude enough.
> 
> Big thanks to my amazing betas [Marie](HTTP://quietzap.tumblr.com) and Jenn for their support and cheerleading. I could never have gotten through this without them.
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy this story because it's been a labor of love. 
> 
> xx-Joey
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.

The house was quiet as Derek let himself through the front door. He wasn’t surprised; it was well after midnight. He’d planned to arrive home several hours earlier, but the weather and numerous accidents had delayed his travel. He was just glad no one knew he was coming home; he’d canceled plans with his family to go home with his fiancée.

His ex-fiancée, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that day. He was still reeling from the breakup, which made sense since it’d been less than twenty-four hours since she’d ended their five-year relationship stating that he was just not right for her. She’d listed several things about him that she found lacking. Each word was another blow to his self-esteem until he wasn’t sure if he was upset or relieved about losing her from his life.

Whichever emotion took the front seat, it was an adjustment. The apartment Derek had shared with Braeden had been hers, so logically he would move out. Thankfully, material goods had never been important to him. Everything that mattered had fit into the back of his SUV parked under the old oak tree he’d been parking under since he’d first turned sixteen. Derek was just glad that he could do his writing from anywhere; he just hoped his family would be alright with him staying with them until he could find his own place.

Crossing through the foyer, he left his duffle at the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten since before he’d left the apartment. His stomach was making noises loudly enough that he was surprised they didn’t wake his family up. He chuckled as he imagined his family pouring down the stairs, searching for a wild animal that had broken into the house. 

He stumbled when he entered the kitchen to find someone sitting at the island, a laptop open in front of him. The young man looked up at Derek, startling and falling backward off the stool, barely catching himself before he hit the floor. “Woah, you’re Derek!” he said.

“I am. And you are?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski,” he said, righting himself and holding a hand out to him. 

Derek stared at it, his eyebrows raised. “Any relation to the Sheriff?”

“My dad,” he said, pride in his voice as he pulled his hand back and waved it awkwardly.

“And you’re in my family’s kitchen in the middle of the night because…”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, laughing. “As for being in the house, I’m staying here for the holidays. My dad and step-mom won a cruise, but it’s for the holidays, and your mom didn’t want me to be alone for the holidays. I tried to just come for dinner, but your mom insisted I move in while they’re gone. The middle of the night thing is because I have terrible insomnia, and I started thinking about the history of the candy cane, so I got out of bed to do some-”

Derek held up a hand, cutting him off. “How much coffee have you had to drink?” He eyed the nearly empty pot on the counter before looking at the blushing young man. “Is it still warm?” Derek could drink coffee any time, day or night, without any ill effects on his energy levels. He was a bit chilled from the outside, and a cup would probably do the trick.

“Probably not,” Stiles apologized. “I could make you more!”

“Don’t waste an entire pot on me,” Derek said, continuing when Stiles began to speak. “And you don’t need any more than you’ve already had.”

Stiles laughed and nodded. “You are right. Guess I should go to bed.” He looked at Derek, studying him. “Talia didn’t mention you were coming home for Christmas. I’m positive that she said you were going-”

“And I didn’t,” Derek snapped, turning on his heel to exit the kitchen. He grabbed his bag and stormed up the stairs to his childhood bedroom, skidding to a stop in the doorway when he saw a suitcase open on the dresser and unknown pillows and blankets on the bed. He hadn’t even thought about it, but now he knew where Stiles was sleeping while he was visiting. Or not sleeping as the case currently was.

Sighing, he turned around and headed down to the end of the hallway. It was a bit of a stretch, but he grabbed the string and pulled down the stairway to the attic. He hoped that things hadn’t changed too much since he’d left for college and that there was still an extra mattress and camping equipment stored up there. He could fight for his bedroom in the morning, although his mother would probably kill him for trying to dislodge a guest from the more comfortable arrangements. 

He was halfway up when he heard the main stairs creaking and saw Stiles’ head through the open backs. He was bopping his head to whatever was playing in his earbuds, oblivious to Derek’s observation. He headed directly to Derek’s room and closed the door behind himself. He wondered if Stiles would actually go to sleep; he’d noticed his laptop underneath his arm, and he appeared wide awake.

Shaking his head, he continued up the steps, relieved when his head poked through the opening and saw the mattress. It was probably dusty, but he was exhausted enough that he didn’t even care. Dropping the bags, he grabbed a sleeping bag from the attic corner and unrolled it before grabbing a second one and refolding it to use as a pillow. He didn’t even bother changing out of the clothes he’d traveled in and snuggled down into the bag, asleep between one breath and the next.

He awoke to the sound of a screech and a body landing on top of him. He gasped for help, playfully flailing underneath the weight. Laughter and more screeching were his only response. When he finally managed to push the body that had so rudely woken him off and onto the floor, he identified the assaulter as his baby sister, Cora. 

“I will cut the heads off all your dolls,” he muttered, the same threat he’d been using since she was five years old.

“I’m too old for dolls,” she huffed and threw her arms around him again. 

He returned the hug and glared over her shoulder when an exaggerated, “Awwwww,” filled the room. Stiles was standing on the stairs, a cup of coffee clasped in his hands. He smiled softly when Derek’s eyes met his. “Morning,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “There’s fresh coffee.”

Derek grumbled and continued to hug his sister, taking in the scent of her shampoo and general Cora-ness. Derek always forgot how much he missed his family until he was with them again. He wondered, not for the first time, what had ever possessed him to leave Beacon Hills and try to settle down anywhere else.

“Did Braeden come?” she asked as she stood up and held out a hand to help Derek untangle from the sleeping bag and standing up. 

“No,” he said, his voice clipped, and he regretted it when Cora shrank into herself a bit. “She and I…” He trailed off, looking over to see Stiles’ eyes widen before he disappeared down the steps, leaving a black mug with a gold “D” on the side sitting on the ledge. Derek’s mug. This stranger had brought him coffee, and Derek didn’t know what to do with that news. “We split up,” he spat out once he heard the door to his bedroom closing on the floor below.

“Good,” Cora said, blunt as always. Derek had known she wasn’t Braeden’s biggest fan. Her barely-concealed excitement over the break-up surprised him. “Wait, where are you going to live?”

Derek looked around the attic. “Well, I was hoping to move back into my room for a little while, but it’s already occupied,” he said, a wry smile on his face as he nudged Cora with her elbow. “Something you need to tell me?” He assumed that Stiles and Cora were about the same age, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t an attractive guy.

“Ewww, no!” she shrieked. “He’s mom’s project. I’d never even met him before he showed up on our porch with his duffle bag.” She started to head toward the stairs, bending down to pick up the mug and hand it back to Derek and waiting for him to take a sip. “Besides, he’s gay.”

Derek glanced up, but she was already halfway down the stairs and announcing his presence to the household. Up until that moment, Stiles was the only one who knew that he was home. Derek quickly changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top and then headed down to the kitchen, meeting his mother on the main stairs. He nearly lost his mug when she gathered him into a hug.

He hugged her back, ignoring the dampness against the side of his neck and in his own eyes. It had been too long since he’d seen her. “Cora says you’re staying.”

“If I can,” he said, pulling back and looking her in the face, laughing when she rolled her eyes. “I mean, you’ve already given away my room.”

“Oh, you,” she said, slapping him on the arm before turning around and heading back down the stairs and into the kitchen where his father was cooking breakfast. Cora and Stiles were at the table arguing about something they were looking at in the paper. He bumped shoulders with his dad as he passed to get more coffee and join Stiles and Cora at the table.

“Cookies or snowmen?” Cora asked when he sat down.

“For?”

“Do you want to go to a cookie decorating class or a snowmen ornament making one?” she said, and Derek shook his head.

“I want to stay right here in the house and just enjoy time with my family,” he said.

“Well, your family, including Laura and Oliver, are going to be taking either a cookie decorating or a snowman ornament making class. So, which is it?” she looked up at him.

“Whichever you all decide,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and resigning himself to group activities. 

“That’s the problem,” she said. “The votes are tied, three and three. Yours is the tie-breaker.”

“I can’t take the pressure,” he said, starting to stand, but his mother sat down across from him.

He dropped back into his seat and pulled the brochure that Cora and Stiles were arguing over towards him. Holding his place with one finger, he flipped the brochure shut to look at the front. It was a list of activities for the entire month of December in Beacon Hills. Turning the pages slowly, he was amazed at how much there was to do; they’d always been busy this time of year, but he’d just followed his mom’s plans and didn’t realize there were so many other things to do. Stopping on the page he’d started on, he saw the circled listings for that date and read the descriptions.

He was focusing so hard that he almost missed the finger that reached over and tapped the cookie decorating class twice before retreating across the table. “No cheating!” Cora shouted, swatting Stiles’ hand before he could pull it completely back into his lap. A slap fight ensued between the two of them, and Derek knew, based on experience, that Cora would not stop until she drew blood.

“No wonder you don’t miss me,” Derek said. “You’ve already replaced me. Should I be worried about Stiles killing me in my sleep?”

“Nah, I’d fall down the steps in the dark before I could get up there,” he said, with a smile. He mouthed, “thank you,” when Cora turned her attention back to her mother, who was watching them all with a small smile on her face.

It was too early for Derek to be thinking this hard; he had fallen asleep quickly but felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. He rolled his head on his shoulders, sighing at the crack it gave before rubbing at his eyes and taking a large drink of his coffee. He wished caffeine affected him because he could use all the help he could waking up.

“Do I have time for a run before I make a decision?” he asked, knowing exercise was usually a good way for him to wake up.

“No,” Cora said. “We have to get signed up before eight o’clock, but the classes don’t start until two.”

Glancing down at the paper, he saw Stiles’ finger lying near the cookie decorating listing again. At the same time, he stuck his tongue out at Cora. Derek thought back to years of sugar cookies coated with too much frosting in atrocious colors. Grinning, he looked up and winked at Stiles, which seemed to fluster him. “Cookie decorating,” he said, standing up and draining his coffee mug. “Now, I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

He strode out of the room, ignoring Stiles’ crows of triumph and Cora’s accusations of cheating. His mother was trying to break up the fighting while his father leaned against the counter, laughing. It took him back to being a teenager. He didn’t even bother to fight the smile that was breaking across his face.

The preserve was quiet, and he quickly found the trail he used to run during high school. It led away from the house and down to a small lake before curving back towards the house. It wasn’t a long trail, but there were several clearings and at the end was Derek’s place to hide when things got to be too much. It had been a few years since he’d taken the trail, so there was a good chance things had changed due to natural phenomena. 

He made it to the lake, smiling at the small log that was still along the edge and appeared to be in good shape. He stopped to do some stretching next to it before sitting down and drinking from the water bottle he’d brought with him. He sputtered when he heard something moving quickly through the trees. It wasn’t unusual to run into animals while running, but this was too big, too fast, and too loud.

Jumping to his feet, he readied himself to either flee or jump into the water depending on what the threat turned out to be. He stumbled backward over the log and into the water when Stiles appeared on the trail, running fast and earbuds in his ears. Derek’s shout and the splash were enough to draw his attention, though. A moment later, while Derek was trying to pick himself up, Stiles was lying on the ground, holding his stomach and laughing uproariously. 

“Yeah, real funny,” Derek said, thankful he’d forgotten his phone back at the house as he pulled himself out of the water and onto the shore. He stood over Stiles, who was still laughing and struggling to speak. Rolling his eyes, Derek shook his head, water spraying all over Stiles and earning a squawk.

“Cold! Cold! Cold!” he squealed, crab-walking backward quickly.

“Imagine being soaked in it,” Derek said, his voice dry as he calculated how long it would take to get back to the house and if he would be an icicle before he made it. It was a chilly morning, the sky growing overcast the longer they stood there. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Stiles sobered quickly and scrambled to his feet, nearly falling into Derek but managing to stop himself with a hand on his chest. He yanked it back and wiped it off on his jeans before shrugging out of his red hoodie and handing it to Derek. “You wear this.”

Derek tried to shove it back at Stiles, not wanting him to get a chill; his mother, and possibly Cora, would kill him if Stiles got sick, even if it wasn’t his fault. Stiles refused, and Derek gave up, pulling the hoodie on and trying to zip it up. It was a bit too snug that way, so instead, he turned and started to head back to the house the way he’d come, which would be shorter than continuing on the trail.

Stiles fell into step next to him, idle chatter interspersed with more apologies for the incident at the lake until Derek literally growled at him. “Shutting up now,” he said, lifting a hand to zip his lips, and Derek was amazed; he’d never seen an adult do that before.

The wind was starting to pick up, and his skin was beginning to goose pimple, so he sped up. Stiles kept stride next to him, his mouth not staying quiet for long as he started a long and winding story about the time he and his best friend had gotten lost in the woods and thought they’d seen a wolf. 

Derek picked up his pace, hoping that he’d either leave Stiles behind or wind him enough that he wouldn’t be able to continue talking. It wasn’t until Derek had broken into a full-out sprint that Stiles stopped talking. Instead, he laughed and raced alongside Derek, the two of them alternating between who had the lead until they broke through the trees behind the house. Stiles let out a whoop of joy and sprinted past Derek, reaching the back door first and raising his arms in triumph.

Derek didn’t even hesitate to dive at Stiles, wrapping his arms around his waist and taking him down to the ground with a war cry. His fingers dug into his ribs, pulling laughter from him until he screamed for mercy. It was something Derek had done with his sisters a million times. Still, when Derek stopped tickling to catch his breath, he realized there was a significant difference between them and him.

Jumping to his feet, he shoved the back door open and hurried inside, wanting to get to the shower first when the hot water was still plentiful. He shut the door just as Stiles reached the top of the stairs. “Don’t use all the hot water!” he shouted, and Derek just laughed.

He planned to take a long drawn out shower, but his mother knocked and called to him to hurry up just when he’d finished washing his hair. He showered quickly and jumped out, realizing his problem when he did. In his hurry to reach the shower first, he’d forgotten to grab clean clothes. He thought about his bag upstairs in the attic, and if he’d had his phone, he would have texted his sister to bring them to him. Instead, he wrapped the largest towel they kept in the washroom around his waist and pulled the door open just enough to peek out and look up and down the hallway.

Spotting no one, he grabbed his wet clothes and hurried to the attic stairs. He was halfway up when he felt the towel begin to slip. He rushed to grab it, but it managed to slip just enough to cause a cool breeze across his bum. The tips of his ears burned red when he heard a gasp from behind him and the bathroom door slamming shut. Fisting the towel tightly, he raced up the last few steps and tried to forget that he’d just inadvertently mooned his mother’s guest.

When Derek finished getting cleaned up and dressed, everyone was waiting out by the cars. If he didn’t hurry, there wouldn’t be time for them to stop for lunch, and he wasn’t shouldering the blame for his family’s starvation. His mother was in the middle of assigning people to cars, and Derek smiled at the memory of when the family got a little too large for one car. He had assumed he’d just drive himself over, but he found Stiles and Cora standing next to his car.

“I offered to drive myself, but Roscoe wouldn’t start,” Stiles said, looking anywhere but at Derek.

“I’ve got plenty of room, although you might have to shove a few things out of the way,” Derek said when he opened the back door and realized that it was still pretty loaded down with his stuff. “Or, I might need to unload before I go.”

“We don’t have time for you to unpack the car,” Cora said, nearly whining. “I’m just going to ride with Laura and Oliver. You’ve got room for Stiles in your front seat.” 

She was already moving away, ignoring both Stiles and Derek’s protests. Everyone pulled out, leaving them standing next to the vehicle. Derek sighed when he looked over to see Stiles curled into himself, eyes on the ground. He was sighing a lot more than usual recently, and he knew it needed to stop, but the way Stiles was standing deserved another one.

“C’mon, if we take too long, you won’t want to hear the teasing we’ll endure,” Derek said, nudging Stiles gently with his elbow, putting him into motion. 

“Do I even want to know?” Stiles asked as they climbed into the car, gesturing to the stuff in the backseat.

“Moving home for a bit,” Derek explained as he turned the vehicle around to head down the driveway. “Or forever, I don’t know. It’s stupid, I know. Grown man moving in with his family.”

Stiles laughed. “I am the last person to judge. I’ve only ever lived with my dad,” he explained when Derek’s face turned offended. “Went away to college for four years, lived in the dorms the whole time, and then moved right back into my old room.” He laughed again. “Still have the same posters on the wall from high school.”

“You’ve finished college?”

“What? Don’t think I’m smart enough?” Stiles asked, his voice edged with anger.

“No!” Derek held up a hand before Stiles could spit out whatever had sprung to his lips because he knew it wouldn’t be good. “Your intelligence didn’t even cross my mind! I assumed you were Cora’s age.” Cora was twenty and in her second year at college. She was only home for the holidays.

“Nah, she was a freshman when I graduated,” he said. “I didn’t even know who she was when she opened the door.”

“She had to have loved that,” Derek said with a snort.

“Yeah, she thought I was playing her at first and accused me of playing dumb to flirt with her,” he said, the happy laughter back, and Derek felt himself smiling in response. “Had to set that record straight. Or not, as the case may be.”

“Yeah, Cora told me.” Stiles made an inquiring sound, and Derek glanced over to see him playing with his fingers in his lap. “I don’t have a problem with it. I’m bisexual.” It was never easy coming out as bisexual, even to someone who was gay because he got judged from both sides, but Stiles’ shoulders relaxed, and they exchanged smiles as they reached the diner.

Thankfully, everyone else was just getting out of their cars, so they didn’t endure any teasing. Derek’s mom did lecture him on not unloading his car first thing when he’d arrived home, but he just pointed out that he didn’t have a bedroom to move his stuff into anymore. 

“I should just go home,” Stiles said, but everyone, including Derek, instantly shushed him. “At least let me move up to the attic.”

“Derek could just move an air mattress to his room,” Talia suggested, and the men looked at each other and shrugged. Derek had a feeling there would be a fight, but there was no way he was letting his mother’s guest sleep on the air mattress, but he had no problem sharing a room with the guy.

The conversation stalled as they settled into one of the large booths inside the diner. Derek and Stiles ended up on the outside edges while everyone else squeezed in between them, Cora sitting in the center between Laura and Talia, their spouses on each side of them. Derek’s father nudged him in the side and gave him a small smile, his way of asking if Derek was alright. Derek and his father never had in-depth, personal discussions growing up, but he still knew Derek best out of the entire family.

The waitress took their orders, not even bothered by how they shouted their orders over each other. He noticed that she hadn’t even asked Stiles for his, and he started to call her back when Stiles waved his hand at him. “I’ve been coming here at least twice a week since I was six. I get the same thing,” he admitted. “Angel stopped asking me for my order a long time ago.”

“It must be comforting for her,” Derek offered, thinking about how consistent his food orders were. There had been the Mexican place around the corner from his old apartment; they would start rattling off his order as soon as they picked up the phone.

“Huh,” Stiles said, taking his soda from the waitress when she returned to the table. After the waitress disappeared into the back, everyone settled into conversation. Stiles looked up at Derek, who was sipping at his water. “Most people call me boring and predictable.”

Derek shrugged. “Creatures of habit aren’t boring, and a little bit of predictability is comforting.” 

“Thanks.”

Derek gave him a smile before getting pulled into a conversation with Laura about her job at the law firm. She’d been trying to get Derek to come to help out for years and was jumping on the chance now that he was back in town for an indeterminate amount of time. He didn’t want to discuss his writing with Stiles at the table, and he was glad his family respected that. Still, Derek coming across as an unemployed loser. Just as the waitress arrived at the table, he let out a sigh and told Laura he’d think about it, and she dropped the subject and turned to her husband with a triumphant grin.

“You have no intention of thinking about working for your sister,” Stiles said when they got into the car, startling him because it’d been at least an hour since that discussion. He’d assumed everyone except Laura had forgotten it.

“No,” Derek admitted, his lips twisted into a wry grin. “It got her to shut up, though.”

“So, what do you do for a living?” Stiles asked.

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Derek teased, hoping it would be enough to get him to drop the subject. His books did well, but he wrote under a pen name and refused personal appearances for a reason. He had no desire to have his private life turned into a public forum.

“Okay, international spy, got it,” Stiles retorted with a wink. He looked Derek up and down. “I can see you in a tux with a martini, shaken, not stirred.” His British accent was terrible. “Hale. Derek Hale.” His impression of Derek was even worse, and Derek let out a bark of laughter that had Stiles’ face breaking into a rather impressive grin.

“So, how about you? Did you get into law enforcement like your father?” He had wondered that when he’d first seen him, recognizing the lean build of some of the deputies he remembered, but that could just be from taking care of himself. Plus, if he ran every morning as Derek did, he cared about being in shape. If he was an officer, he wondered if he would have to go to work at some point during the holidays, especially with the Sheriff out of town.

“I thought about it,” Stiles admitted. “I even applied and got accepted to Quantico,” Stiles told him, looking sheepish when Derek gave him an impressed look. “My first semester at college, I took a childhood psychology course, and part of the requirements was to volunteer at a kindergarten classroom. Something clicked when I was working with those kids; I just felt like I belonged there.”

“Like it was your calling,” Derek responded. The words reminded him of every time he worked on his books, especially those for young children that included his illustrations. When Derek finished the first one, a gift for his Aunt and Uncle when they had their first child, he had known that it was something he enjoyed doing and at which he had a bit of talent. When Uncle Peter had suggested submitting it to a publisher, he didn’t hesitate for long, even though he’d only been fifteen at the time.

“That’s it, exactly! Stiles said. “My dad had a hard time understanding at first, but he stopped by my classroom on my first day and watched through the door. He told me later that he saw my mom in me while I worked with the kids.” Stiles wiped at his eyes, and Derek gripped the steering wheel tighter to fight the urge to reach out and comfort him by taking his hand. “Sorry...sorry...I’m totally ruining the vibe.”

“No,” Derek responded, voice soft. He wanted to say more, but they’d pulled into the parking lot of the Christmas Festival where the Women’s Auxiliary hosted the cookie decorating class. “Take a minute. I’ll distract everyone.”

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles said, his smile still wet.

“Don’t call me ‘dude.’” Derek closed the door gently and hurried over to his family. “Stiles had a phone call; he’ll be out in a minute or two.”

“I can’t imagine spending the holidays away from you guys,” Cora said, and they all teased her, pulling her into a group hug.

“Is this hug open to everyone, or is it just a Hale thing?” Stiles spoke up. Talia pulled him into the huddle, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, her eyes meeting Derek’s over the top.

Cookie decorating went slightly better than his family activities usually went. They had the added bonus of Stiles’ experience dealing with children and art projects to keep them more or less focused. There was a minimum of food thrown, and no one was asked to leave, so they all counted it as a Hale Family win. If things kept up this way, Stiles would officially become an honorary Hale, whether he wanted to or not.

They gathered together their cookies after Stiles had taken photos and sent them off to his dad, smiling at whatever he received in return. Derek bumped shoulders with him as he folded up a copy of the recipe for the icing they had made and used, impressed with how easy and tasty it ended up being. Derek made a couple of notes on his phone about the cookies’ shapes, an idea coming to his mind for a children’s book. He knew he was supposed to be working on one of his teen novels, but the inspiration wasn’t there, so he might as well work on what was flowing for him.

They stood outside the booth for the decorating, looking at the listing of events. Laura and Oliver had to leave, but they made plans to come by the house for dinner later. Cora had plans with some friends of hers and disappeared towards the parking lot right away, leaving Derek, his parents, and Stiles. 

“Is there anything else you want to do?” Talia asked, looking at Stiles, who stood close to the board, finger running down the page slowly as he read each thing. “We’ll let you choose this activity.”

“Technically, I chose the last one,” Stiles said. “I just convinced Derek to agree with me.”

“Don’t speak lightly of that,” Derek’s father said. “I’ve never met someone more stubborn than Derek; he doesn’t agree to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

Stiles looked at Derek with raised eyebrows. “I like to irritate Cora.” They shared a laugh and then agreed to go for hot cocoa and cookies at the Santa pavilion. 

They settled at a table while Derek carried a tray full of treats and set it in the middle. Derek dropped onto the bench next to Stiles just as a small child came running over to the table. “Mr. S!” she shouted, a big grin on her frosting-coated face.

“Abigail!” Stiles said, holding his arms open for a hug and letting out an ‘oof’ when she launched herself into him with enough force to knock him back into Derek, who reached out a hand to steady him before they all ended up on the ground. 

While the little girl launched into the story of seeing Santa Claus and asking for a million different things, including something called a Squishmallow, Stiles picked up a napkin and cleaned off her face. Through the entire exchange, he never lost his rapt expression. When she finished, he nodded and asked her a few questions; the conversation went back and forth until a young couple came to collect their daughter.

“I can see what your father saw,” Derek leaned over to whisper as Stiles finally turned his attention to his own treats on the table.

“Thanks,” he mumbled in response, his cheeks flushing as he ducked his head to sip at his hot chocolate.

Once the hot chocolate was gone and they’d reduced the cookies to crumbs, the four of them wandered over to watch artists carving ice sculptures. Derek pulled his phone out and snapped a few photos, thinking about a land full of ice creatures and the adventures a young child could have there. His fingers were already itching to pick up his pastels and get the ideas down on paper. 

His father cleared his throat and suggested heading back to the house, and when Derek looked over, he saw his father watching his hands, and he knew that he understood. He would have to hole up in the attic to work in peace and hopefully not give away his secret to Stiles. The ride back to the house was relatively quiet while Stiles was looking at his phone, his face curling into a soft smile.

“Boyfriend?”

Stiles’ head snapped up. “No. My dad. I know I should leave him alone to enjoy his trip, but it’s harder being away from him at the holidays than I thought.”

“Your mom…” Derek trailed off, remembering the tears from earlier in the day and afraid of the answer.

“She died when I was a kid,” Stiles explained. “And she wasn’t herself for a long time before that. She had frontotemporal dementia.” 

“I’ve heard of it,” Derek said, frowning. He’d read about the disease while researching a book, deciding against that particular one because he couldn’t imagine putting his character through something so awful. His heart ached for Stiles and his mother, not even being able to begin to imagine how horrible it was for them. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles shrugged and wiped at his eyes. “I would apologize for crying again, but it happens a lot.”

“Nothing wrong with showing your emotions,” Derek said, hearing his sisters’ laughter in his head because he struggled to show his own. That was their fault for always teasing him when he did get emotional.

“I bet you’ve never cried a day in your life,” Stiles said, his voice teasing. There was an undertone of seriousness that struck Derek hard. He opened his mouth to say something when Stiles continued talking. “So, I’ll probably be out of your hair tomorrow. I need to finish Christmas shopping. Do you have any ideas for your sisters?”

“You don’t have to get us anything,” Derek argued. “You’re a guest.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Stiles responded, twisting his fingers together. “It just seems right.” 

“Alright, we’ll come up with something while we’re getting my stuff sorted out at home.” 

“I didn’t mean to evict you from your room. I really can move up to the attic-”

“Didn’t you say you would fall and kill yourself before you could get up to the attic?” Derek teased. “It’s fine. I can stay if you have a problem with me sharing my room with you.”

They argued back and forth, but the banter became playful, and by the time they pulled up in front of the house, there were tears of laughter in both of their eyes. They were no closer to figuring out something for Stiles to get for Cora and Laura, but the atmosphere was comfortable, and Stiles even grabbed some stuff out of the car to move into the house, heading straight to Derek’s room.

It took Derek a few more minutes to figure out what to grab. He wanted to leave anything work-related in the attic and avoid Stiles seeing them, but he’d waited too long, and Stiles was by his side again, arms held out for more things. “Someone already has an air mattress in the room. I suspect your mother had one hiding in the closet.”

“There was one in my closet; good to know you didn’t get too nosey. Who knows what you might have found,” Derek teased as he pulled out the old army duffle that had belonged to his granddad and held all of his clothing. He handed it off to Stiles and reached for his laptop and portfolio case.

“Oooh, is that for your work?” Stiles asked. “What does an international spy need a portfolio for?”

“It holds all of the maps and plans for my latest case,” Derek deadpanned, laughing when Stiles tried to hip-check him and managed to lose his balance and drop the duffle and fall over it to the ground. Derek shook his head and left him sputtering and squawking as he headed into the house.

His father was standing at the foot of the stairs to the attic. “Your old desk is still up there. I’m sure it’s not as good as what you had at the apartment.”

“My drafting table is in the car,” Derek told him. “I had to dismantle it, but I couldn’t leave it behind. You still have your toolbox around somewhere?”

“I’ll carry it up there for you. Your mother is going to ask Stiles for help with dinner so you can get everything else inside.” He gave him a knowing look when Derek expressed his gratitude. “We’ve got your back, son. Always.”

Stiles was just managing to get the bag into the house when Derek came back down the stairs. Laughing, he took the bag and hefted it over his shoulder with ease while Talia called for Stiles to come to help her in the kitchen. “I’ll come in when I’m done helping Derek!” he called out.

“I can help him. You don’t want to keep Talia waiting,” Derek’s dad said, appearing from the back of the house with a toolbox in his hand. “In this house, if Talia ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

“Okay...okay, I’m going,” Stiles said, laughing. 

They had just finished getting the table put together when Stiles called from the bottom of the attic stairs to let them know that dinner was ready. Cora still hadn’t returned, and Laura and Oliver had called to say they were going out to dinner with some friends that were only in town for a couple of days, so it was just the four of them.

They ate in the breakfast nook gathered around the small table, knees bumping and the air around them filled with laughter. Derek’s dad got Stiles talking about his favorite childhood stories. He launched into one that his mother used to tell him before she got too sick to remember it.

It was a rather scary story about a fox and a wolf. The fox tricked the wolf numerous times, getting him into trouble until eventually leaving him in the bottom of a hole and wandering away. Derek’s brain ran over the story, changing things around in his head, but he couldn’t change it enough to make it friendly enough to market. He watched as Stiles wound down the story, his eyes shining again. Reaching over, he squeezed his hand under the table, grinning when Stiles turned a shy smile on him before pulling his hand away and laying it on the table.

Derek rubbed his hand against his thigh, wondering what had come over him. It had been a good day, and now he’d succeeded in making things awkward. Thankfully, dinner was over shortly after that. Stiles retreated to Derek’s room, claiming he needed to work on some lesson plans for after the holidays, as well as holiday cards to mail home to his students. Derek watched him go before heading up into the attic. 

It took him a bit of time to finish getting everything together. He didn’t have a real plan, so he put on an acoustic music playlist and sat at the drafting table with a piece of charcoal in his hand. The sketchbook in front of him was the one he used for brainstorming and free sketching. Flipping through the pages in hopes of inspiration, he came across a drawing he’d done one day when he’d visited a wildlife preserve.

The wolf was atop a cropping of rocks, gaze locked on something in the distance. Derek had been enraptured by her and snapped a photo. However, she’d stayed still long enough that he’d managed the entire basic sketch before she’d finally moved. She’d jumped off the rocks and moved towards the fence where Derek was sitting, cross-legged on the ground, probably closer than recommended, but no one had asked him to move, so he’d remained.

The wolf reached the fence and pressed her nose against the metal, gazing at Derek, who couldn’t look away. He’d managed to snap another photo before she'd huffed and turned around to run away, disappearing into the enclosure beyond the rocks. He’d stayed there until the sun went down, but she’d never returned. The visitor’s center closed and he heard howling as he’d left the preserve; he liked to think it had been her calling out to him.

He’d tried to share the story with Braeden, but she’d ignored him in favor of telling him about something that had happened that day at work. Derek had only half-listened, thinking about the wolf. As he stared down at the drawing, he thought back to Stiles’ story. Finding a blank page in the sketchbook, he put the charcoal to the page and sketched.

“Dude!” Stiles hissed. Derek jerked upright, looking around the attic in confusion. Reaching up, he rubbed against his cheek, his hand coming away blackened with charcoal. His hand had smudged the drawing when he’d fallen asleep. Still, it was an easy fix once he scanned the image into the computer.“Derek!” he heard and glanced towards the stairs and the source of the voice that had woken him.

Crossing the room, he glanced down and saw Stiles standing at the bottom, dressed in his pajamas and hair ruffled. If he squinted, he could see pillow creases and dried drool on the side of his face. “What?”

“It’s two a.m,” Stiles responded. “Wasn’t sure if you were sleeping up there or not.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder towards the mattress he’d slept on the night before. Boxes and bags from Derek’s car covered the surface, and it would take too long to uncover it for him to get any more sleep. “Coming down,” Derek called, and Stiles grunted. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Stiles was gone, and the light in Derek’s bedroom flickered off.

Taking a quick shower to get rid of the charcoal, Derek went into the room expecting Stiles to be asleep, but he was sitting up in the bed with his laptop on his lap and headphones in. He glanced up when Derek came in and gave a wave before turning his attention back to the screen. He remembered Stiles saying something about insomnia, but as long as he kept the headphones in, the light wouldn’t bother Derek. Climbing onto the air mattress, he pulled the blanket over his head with an exhausted sigh.

“Good night, Derek,” Stiles whispered.

“Night,” Derek returned and managed to fall asleep almost as quickly as he had the night before; something about being home just relaxed him.

The sun came in through the window and fell across Derek’s face. He scrunched his nose up and squinted his eyes shut as far as he could before grabbing his blanket and yanking it over his head. He heard laughter and stuck a hand out to flip off the offender, which made the laughter increase and Derek’s mood worsen. He hated mornings. Especially early mornings after late nights working.

“I’m really beginning to feel like part of the family,” Stiles said, and Derek felt something soft land on him. Assuming it was a pillow, he reached out from under the blanket and grabbed the item, and pulled it under with him before yelping and throwing the covers off of him.

He stared at the ball of fluff in his lap for a minute before looking back at Stiles, his mouth gaping. Stiles was pale and held the look of a man who’d made a rash decision he immediately regretted. “Give it back,” he choked out, his voice a high-pitched whine that hurt Derek’s ears slightly.

Tucking the stuffed wolf against his chest, something about the action familiar. Trying to search his memory was fruitless, and he was pulled back to the present by Stiles trying to grab at the toy. Derek shook his head with a smirk. “Mine, now.”

Stiles looked horrified and jumped off the bed, diving at Derek and curling his hands into the fur of the wolf’s tail that was sticking out beneath Derek’s arm. “Mine!” Stiles said, his fingers brushing against Derek’s side, bare due to the fact he rarely slept in shirts, sending a shock through him, and he released the wolf to curl into himself.

Stiles froze and let out a bark of laughter. “You’re ticklish!” he shouted, and Cora’s voice carried from the doorway in response with, “Yes, he is.”

Stiles jumped to his feet, shoving the fox under the back of his shirt before turning to face Cora. She stood in the doorway, looking at both of them with raised eyebrows. “You know, when I suggested you share the room, I didn’t mean the bed.” Her tone was teasing, and she turned on her heel with a laugh before either of them could react. 

Once she was gone, Derek climbed off the air mattress, stretching his arms over his head before bending down to touch his toes. Then he twisted to the right and the left; if he kept sleeping on the air mattress, he was going to need a trip to the chiropractor. 

When he was done, he glanced at Stiles, taken aback by the flush on his face and the way he raced past and into the hallway. “Are you going running?” Derek called, and Stiles shouted back an affirmative. “I’ll join you.” His only answer was the slam of the bathroom door.

Stiles was on the porch stretching by the time Derek finished getting dressed. He’d stopped by the kitchen to press a kiss to his mom’s cheek and grab a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator. He stepped outside and tossed a bottle to Stiles, laughing when he fumbled it a few times before getting his hand wrapped around it and flipped Derek off for laughing.

They settled into an easy warmup, Stiles allowing Derek to choose the path, so he went to the right of the driveway, which led to a longer trail with very little elevation change. He was still tired and sore, so he didn’t want to put in too much effort. The path was wide enough for the both of them to run side by side for most of the trail. Their paces picked up when they did, their mutual competitive spirit pushing them harder and faster, trying to outdo each other.

They broke through the trees behind the house when the run was over, and Derek nearly tripped when Stiles dropped onto his back on the ground and let out a groan. Skidding to a stop, he looked over at Stiles and snorted. “It’s too cold to lie on the ground,” he pointed out, finishing off his bottle of water.

“I now see the error of my ways and regret my hasty decision,” Stiles said, trying to push himself to stand. He gave up halfway and fell back against the ground. “Just leave me here to die.” He waved a hand, which Derek grabbed and yanked him to his feet.

“If I let you die, my mother will never forgive me, and your father will throw me in jail,” Derek pointed out, allowing Stiles to lean on him as they made their way up the stairs and into the house.

Cora was racing past as they entered the house, wrinkling her nose at them and continuing into the kitchen where they could hear the radio playing. Stiles went upstairs. Derek followed Cora into the kitchen. His mother stood at the island, the family cookbook open in front of her. She hummed along with the radio as she turned the pages. He saw the pad used for making grocery lists on the counter next to the book, the list his mother was making already taking up the majority of a page.

“Oh, Derek!” she called when he passed her to grab a cup of coffee. “What are you planning for today?” 

He thought about the sketches on his drafting table in the attic; he really wanted to get back up there and work on it, but if his mom wanted him to run errands, he was too well-trained to refuse. “Nothing that can’t be rearranged.” 

“Good. Can you go grocery shopping? Your sister and I have to go shopping for gifts, and I’m sure you’ve had all of yours bought for months already.” Derek felt his heart seize. Usually, her statement would have been correct, but between his last deadline and things with Braeden, he’d completely forgotten about buying gifts. 

“You know me,” Derek mumbled. “Although, if Stiles is staying for the holidays, I’m going to need to pick something up for him.” The look on his mother’s face told him that she hadn’t even thought about that.

“Pick something up for who?” Stiles asked, wandering in, still drying his hair with a towel.

“Oh, we have to go shopping for Derek’s birthday present,” Cora covered with a wink at Derek. He hated celebrating his birthday, especially considering what day it was.

“Derek’s birthday? Dude, when’s your birthday?” Stiles asked, smacking him in the arm, causing his coffee to spill over the edge of the mug. 

He grabbed a napkin and wiped himself off. “The day I was born,” he responded dryly.

Stiles’ eye roll was epic. Derek’s head hurt in sympathy. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me.” He turned away from Talia. Edging up to stand next to Cora, he laid his head on her shoulder and batted his eyelashes. 

“Christmas Day, but we have his birthday dinner on Christmas Eve,” she said, not missing a beat and taking a step sideways, throwing Stiles off balance. She cackled with laughter before disappearing upstairs, saying she was going to get dressed to go shopping.

“Can I come shopping, too?” Stiles asked Talia, who shook her head.

“Girls trip,” she said. “We’ll probably stop and get a mani/pedi while we’re out,” she explained, looking apologetic. Still, her lips curving into her mischievous smile. 

“Hey, I’m man enough to appreciate a little pampering!” Stiles argued as he grabbed his own cup of coffee and helped himself to some of the cereal on the island. “What about you, Derek? Do you have to go shopping?”

“Derek is going grocery shopping, but he could use your help,” Talia said, closing the cookbook. She tore off two sheets from the pad and handed them to Stiles. 

Stiles glanced over the papers with wide eyes. “Are you sure we shouldn’t bring a small army? I’m tired just thinking about it.”

“Then rest up while I shower,” Derek said, rinsing his mug and putting it in the dishwasher before heading off to get ready.

The grocery store was packed when they arrived. Derek didn’t mind parking near the back of the lot, but he wasn’t looking forward to the crush of people inside nor the long wait in line to escape. This would take way too long, and he just wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. “You look like a dead man walking,” Stiles said, moving around to the back of Derek’s car and opening it up. He retrieved a bunch of bags, handing half of them to Derek.

“What is this? How did you get those in my car without me seeing them?” He hurried to catch up with Stiles, the bags tucked underneath his arm.

“They’re reusable shopping bags, and I put them in while you were in the shower. Cora mentioned you hate grocery shopping. I’m used to it, so we are doing this my way,” Stiles told him, sounding confident, but he was chewing his lower lip.

“Okay,” Derek responded, drawing the word out. “You lead, I follow.”

Laughing, Stiles grabbed two of the carts by the doors. He hung the bag he’d had over his shoulder, a large insulated one over the handle of one shopping cart. Next, Stiles pulled out the bags inside, took the ones from Derek, and put them into the carts. Finally, he opened four of them up, placing two in each of the shopping carts. The last thing he did was pull out his phone and tap the screen before turning it towards Derek with a grin. “Welcome to the wonders of Shop and Scan.”

Derek followed, watching as Stiles found each item on his mom’s list and scanned it with his phone before putting them in the bags in the cart. When one bag was filled, he’d open another and start on that one. There was a bit of disagreement when they got to the baking goods aisle, and the list simply said, “Cake mix.” 

“I bet this is for your birthday cake, so you choose,” Stiles said, gesturing to the full shelves like a game show host.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled but looked over the selections anyway. He figured if he delayed long enough, Stiles would just grab something and take the decision away from him. As Derek kept looking, his gaze catching on the Spice Cake mix, Stiles stood next to the cart, looking over the list in his hand, seemingly content to wait Derek out. 

When five minutes had passed, and he’d had to step aside no less than five times to let someone else grab a cake mix, Stiles finally looked up from the list. “If you don’t just grab the Spice Cake, I’m going to grab it and use it to smack you upside the back of your head.”

“What? I don’t know what you mean,” Derek mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m a cop’s kid, so I’ve learned observation skills. They’re not quite up to par with Shawn Spencer, but they’re good enough to see you pause on the same box every time you scanned the shelves,” Stiles told him. The pride in his voice was unexpected, but Derek was glad he wasn’t teasing. “Is there a reason you don’t want to grab it?”

“Cora hates it,” Derek admitted, glancing up at Stiles, who gave him a smile that could only be qualified as fond.

“It’s not Cora’s birthday,” Stiles said, reaching past Derek and grabbing the cake mix, scanning it, and adding it to the bag. “Now, pick your frosting.”

Derek grinned at Stiles’ back before reaching for a can of vanilla frosting. “Can we grab some caramel sauce as well?” Stiles’ grin was wide as he nodded, and they continued to shop.

When everything was crossed off on the list, and Stiles had drawn giant smiley faces on both sheets that Derek refused to find endearing, they approached the registers. All the relaxation and, dare he say it, fun he’d had while shopping with Stiles disappeared when he saw the winding lines at every cash register. Even the self-checkouts were fuller than usual. 

“Wow, I think the storm just rolled in,” Stiles said, waggling a finger at Derek’s face before using two to replicate eyebrows drawing together on his own. He let out a rumbling growl that caught Derek off guard and earned a chortle.

“I hate lines,” he admitted. Stiles laughed, gesturing towards the other end of the store where another set of self-scans were stationed. 

Derek followed Stiles down the length of the store, and as they got closer, he spotted a rope barrier that only had a few people with carts full of bags like their own behind it. Derek watched as the person at the front of the line moved towards the register, aimed their phone at it, and then inserted their credit card into the machine. Within five minutes, they were gone, and the next person moved forward.

“You are going to have to help me get this app on my phone,” Derek whispered, and Stiles nodded. 

“Not a problem,” he said as they approached. Derek watched Stiles scan the code on the screen before a notice popped up saying ‘Assistance Needed’ and the small light above the register flashed red.

“What happened? Did we break it?” Derek asked, eyeing the mass amounts of groceries in the carts and wondering how long it would take to ring everything up and rebag it.

“Nah,” Stiles said as a sales associate approached with a scanning gun in their hand. “It’s random and discourages theft. They just scan a given number of items at random in the bags to be sure we scanned everything.”

The young man smiled at them as he tapped the screen a few times and began scanning things in the bag at random, smiling when they all showed up without issue. “You wouldn’t believe the woman who came through once with a cart almost as full as this one, and her phone said her total was twenty-five dollars. Everything we test-scanned came up as missing, and once we scanned everything, her total was over five hundred dollars.” He was laughing, but Derek was horrified.

“My dad had fun with that one,” Stiles said. “The woman ended up leaving without buying anything, and pretty sure she hasn’t been back. Having the sheriff called on you at the grocery store during the busy season is pretty embarrassing.”

“I heard she left town,” the employee said with a smile as he walked away. “Happy holidays!”

Derek had paid while Stiles and the employee talked, so they quickly zipped shut the refrigerator bags. They hurried through the nippy air to the car. They managed to get all of the bags crammed inside, leaving just enough room for them. “We should pick up lunch and surprise everyone,” he suggested, and Stiles nodded, reaching into the back and pulling out a couple more thermal bags. 

“We can keep it warm! What do you want to get?” He had his phone out and was scrolling through it. “I have apps for everyone that has an app and phone numbers for everyone else. I can find menus in less than a minute if you need.”

“Eat out a lot?” Derek asked as he debated where they should get food from, arguing between Mexican and Thai. 

“It’s just Dad and me, so when I don’t have time to cook, or it’s just me, it’s easier to get take-out,” Stiles said with a shrug, although his voice was quiet. “How about Thai?” he asked after a minute, and Derek agreed, glad the decision had been taken from him.

It took a few minutes to get the order together, and it was ready by the time they pulled up in front of the restaurant. Stiles insisted on running inside to pick it up, and it wasn’t until he was back in the car that Derek realized Stiles had paid for everything. When he tried to protest and shove money at Stiles, he had the cash pushed back at him, and an offended-looking Stiles sat next to him.

“Your family has pretty much forcefully adopted me for the holidays. This is the very least I can do,” he said, and Derek nodded, running his mind over ways to sneak some money into Stiles’ stuff before he left the house.

When they got back to the house, Derek’s dad came outside to help them unload the groceries. “No work today?” Derek asked, surprised.

“Tree day,” he responded, and Derek groaned, knowing they were in for a night of merriment and good-natured arguing. 

Derek watched as Stiles carefully arranged the items for Derek’s birthday cake on the counter. He wondered if Tree Day would be what finally made Stiles decide his family was too crazy to spend the holidays with. Instead of focusing on that, Derek finished putting the groceries away. He escaped to the attic, hoping to get a few hours of work done before the decorating began.

He was just sitting down when he heard feet on the stairs behind him. Turning in his chair, he was surprised to see Stiles’ head poke through the opening. “You forgot about the food,” he said, lifting a bag up and setting it on the floor before climbing entirely into the room. “Your dad is in the living room eating, and I put the rest in the fridge for your mom and sister. Your dad was staring out the window when I passed the room. Is he waiting for something?”

“The Christmas tree,” Derek told him. “It’s delivery day.” Turning around, he quickly covered the work on the desk and jumped when he felt Stiles leaning over his shoulder. 

“What’re you working on? Super secret spy stuff?” he joked, digging an elbow into Derek’s side. 

“Yes, my plan is to take over Nakatomi Plaza,” he deadpanned.

“You like  _ Die Hard _ ?!”

“Best Christmas film there is,” Derek responded, settling on the mattress and reaching into the bag for his Gaeng Daeng before passing Stiles his Pad Thai. 

“I have to call foul on that, my good man!” Stiles said through a mouth full of noodles. Derek frowned at him as he hurriedly chewed up the mouthful and continued.  _ “The Nightmare Before Christmas _ is the best Christmas movie.”

“I would agree with you, except that’s the best Halloween movie,” Derek countered, eating a piece of roti bread to cool the burn on his tongue. He loved the spicy red curry and missed it because the place near his apartment didn’t hold a candle to the one in Beacon Hills. Still, his body would probably rebel later if the burn of his tongue was an indication.

“No, the best _ Halloween _ movie is  _ Halloween: Resurrection _ ,” Stiles argued. Grinning, he stole a bit of Derek’s roti bread and leaned backward until he fell off the mattress and spilled some of his food.

“You’re wrong on so many levels,” Derek said, groaning and throwing a stack of napkins at Stiles. That was definitely the worst of the  _ Halloween _ franchise. He shuddered as he remembered sitting through it with Braeden one night; he should’ve known when she loved it that things weren’t going to work out between the two of them.

Stiles laughed. “Good to know you like horror movies and have good taste in them,” he said as he threw the napkins in the paper bag. He settled on the mattress a little bit closer to Derek, their knees bumping as they ate and argued about movies.

It didn’t take long until Derek realized he’d managed to completely distract Stiles from asking about the drawings on the drafting table. He noted that jokes were the way to go about doing it because he was sure he would have to do it again soon. They were just finishing eating, and Derek attempted to try and come up with excuses to get rid of Stiles so he could work some more when he heard the front door of the house slam open. Cora screamed for everyone to cover their eyes while she hid the shopping bags.

“Subtle, she is not,” Stiles said, laughing, and Derek was reminded again just how easily Stiles was fitting in with his family and how he felt about that.

Grabbing the garbage, they headed downstairs, passing Cora on the way and just barely missing being hip-checked down the stairs for “peeking.” Talia was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking stressed, something Derek hadn’t seen very often in his life. “What’s wrong, mom?”

“Your father,” she said, and Derek’s heart froze; he’d seen the man when they came home but hadn’t heard anything while he and Stiles had been eating. Had something happened? He opened his mouth when his mom continued. “He ordered two trees!” She threw her hands in the air. 

“Do you not have enough ornaments?” Stiles asked. “Dad and I never got around to putting up ours, so I can go grab them from my house.” He was already moving towards the door and grabbing his keys off one of the hooks by the door, something Derek hadn’t even noticed when he’d hung his own on the one next to them. 

“No. No. We have plenty of ornaments,” Talia said.

“And you have plenty of space,” Stiles pointed out, his voice careful as he gave Derek wide eyes from behind Talia. 

“We just don’t have time!” she shouted, and Derek pressed his lips together when he heard his father’s laughter bellowing from the next room. 

They went through this every year, although the second tree’s addition was a bit more stressful. Derek’s mom always waited until a few days before Christmas to get the tree, so the tree was fresh and full for Christmas morning for photos. With only two days to decorate, it was always a mad dash for the rest of them. Cora joined them then, peeking into the living room as she passed. 

“So, where’s the second tree?” she asked.

“Back deck,” her father called out. “I thought it would be nice to have one out there for Christmas Eve stargazing.”

Stiles clapped his hands! “Oooh! I know you said you have decorations, but what if we decorated the outside tree with things the animals can eat? Birdseed and peanut butter coated pine cones. Strings of popcorn and cranberries. I even know animal-friendly cookie recipes we can cut into ornaments.” By the time he was done talking, his fingers moved wildly through the air to mimic placing the items on the tree. Derek could tell his excitement was infectious. 

Talia’s look turned determined. “Stiles, you and Derek work on the outdoor tree. Get a list together and get the items you need. Cora, you will help your father and me with the living room tree until your sister and Oliver get here, and then you can move to the outdoor tree.”

“You’ve got your orders,” Derek’s dad said with a smile, and they went their separate ways.

Derek followed Stiles onto the back porch, and working together, they got the tree into the stand his father had put outside. “You might have started a new tradition,” Derek said with a grin.

Stiles glanced at the tree and then out over the open backyard that backed up to the preserve. “You know, if it really is a tradition, you could always plant a tree and decorate it every year. That way, you don’t have to worry about cutting one down.”

“Ecologically sound,” Derek said with a grin. “Too bad, there are no lights.”

“Well...this part wouldn’t exactly be animal edible, but pretty rustic and cool looking,” Stiles said. His grin turned mischievous, and Derek found himself scared but agreeing before he’d even heard the idea.

Many of the items they needed were already in the garage and kitchen, but a few things required a stop by Stiles’ house. Derek had already resigned himself to visiting the busy stores if they still needed something. Derek followed him inside and hesitated at the base of the stairs, but Stiles shouted for him to follow, so he did. Stiles’ bedroom looked like it hadn’t changed much since high school, or maybe his interests hadn’t. He smiled at a couple of art projects sitting on the desk in the room and listened while Stiles described what they were and what they would teach his kids.

“Sneaky,” he said with a grin as he moved onto Stiles’ bookshelf.

“You should try my brownies if you think that’s sneaky,” Stiles said as he dug into his closet, tugging out a large plastic tote, and pulled the lid off to reveal a bunch of clean, empty cans that looked like they’d held soup at one point. Digging again, he grabbed out a toolbox and a coil of wire and finally another large tote full of paint. 

“Special brownies, eh?” Derek asked as he scanned the books’ spines on his shelf, laughing at the wide variety from a couple of Berenstain Bears books to a dog-eared copy of  _ The Catcher in the Rye _ . When he saw a small children’s book entitled, _ The Hollow Cemetery _ by Garrett Roue, his fingers froze. Glancing over, he saw Stiles sorting through the boxes.

“Not that kind of special. Black beans make them healthier, and nobody knows the difference,” Stiles said. 

“Remind me never to let you cook for me,” Derek teased before tearing himself away from the shelf to keep from searching for more books by that author.

“Because you hate healthy food, right?” Stiles teased before shutting the tote and stacking the toolbox on top of it. “This is a project I actually wanted to do with my kids, but then I tried to imagine a room full of five-year-olds with hammers and nails in their hands and put the project away.” He frowned before smiling. “But now I get to do it!”

“I’m still not sure what ‘it’ is, but let’s get moving. I don’t want to be up all night decorating that tree,” Derek said, picking up the tote with everything else with little effort earning a wolf whistle from Stiles. Rolling his eyes, he headed downstairs and out to Stiles’ Jeep to stash the stuff in the back before they headed off to the store for the last of the items.

The tree in the living room was nearly done when they got back to the house. Laura and Talia were making dinner. At the same time, Oliver and Derek’s dad played chess in the living room. Cora was on the deck stringing cranberries and popcorn together, her head bouncing to whatever was playing through her earbuds. Grinning, Derek held a finger to his lips and tiptoed closer to his sister before jabbing his fingers into her sides.

Cora screeched, her hands flying into the air, and the needle she was using to string the foods ended up poking Derek in the cheek, less than an inch from his eye. “Fuck!” Derek shouted, falling backward and slapping his hand over his face.

“That’s what you get!” Cora shouted but was already racing into the house while Stiles knelt next to Derek, took him gently by the wrist, and tried to pull Derek’s hand away from his face. 

“Let me see,” he said, voice soft when Derek refused. “I need to see how bad it is.” Derek pouted out his lower lip. “Stop being a child,” Stiles scolded, and Derek tensed before letting his hand drop.

Stiles’ eyes widened slightly before his face settled into a neutral expression. “Could be worse,” he mumbled, taking the first aid kit that Cora handed him and throwing her a look when she squeaked and ran back into the house shouting for her mom. 

Derek could feel a trickle of blood on his cheek, warm against the coolness of his skin. “Could be worse, but how bad is it?” he asked for clarification. Stiles donned a pair of gloves before opening up an antibiotic wipe and dabbed it carefully, apologizing for the sting before blowing carefully over the wet spot. Derek’s cheeks warmed even more than they already were from Stiles’ close proximity.

“You’re up to date on your tetanus, right?” Stiles questioned as he pressed his thumbs around the area, and Derek hissed. “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches, but it is pretty close to your eye.” He chewed his lip. “Normally, I’d call my stepmom; Melissa’s a nurse but well…”

Talia stepped out onto the porch as Stiles smeared ointment over the injury, earning another hiss. “Do you think he needs to go to the hospital?” 

Derek watched Stiles’ face to see what he would say as he studied Derek. After a moment, he dug his teeth into his lower lip. “I think he’ll be fine, but we should- Wait...are you up to date on your tetanus?”

“Yes,” Derek replied, reaching a hand up to touch his face and jumping when Stiles swatted at his hand before brandishing a bandage and pressing it gently over the area.

“Are you sure?

“It’s a requirement for being a volunteer firefighter,” Derek explained.

“Huh,” Stiles muttered. He cleaned up the mess he’d made before removing his gloves. He tossed everything into the trash bag they’d brought out with them, tying it up to dispose of later. “We should put some ice on it and keep an eye on it.”

Derek sat still while his mother fussed over him while his dad went inside and brought out an ice pack wrapped in one of the dishtowels. Stiles took it and held it to Derek’s cheek. He winced from the cold but took it when Stiles started to retreat. “Thanks. For the first aid. Where’d you learn all that?”

“Well, as I said, my stepmom’s a nurse, and she’s also my best friend since childhood’s mom, so I picked up a lot just watching her. She also suggested when I started teaching that I should take first aid classes, and it has come in handy far too many times.” 

He launched into a story about a kid who thought he could walk the entire teeter-totter without it tipping. By the end, despite the amount of pain the kid had been in, Derek’s stomach was hurting from laughing so hard at Stiles’ telling. He’d even forgotten about the cut on his face until Stiles forced him to press the ice pack to it again. As the laughter was dying down and Stiles was starting to unpack the boxes from his house, Laura and Oliver arrived. Derek had to endure more fussing from an overbearing female family member.

Eventually, everyone went inside, including Cora, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since the accidental assault. Derek shrugged it off and turned to Stiles, who was chewing his lip and glancing around. “You don’t have a vise or something around, do you?”

“Dad’s workbench in the basement might,” Derek said. “I haven’t been down there in years, but we have to ask first because this time of year, he might be working on presents for the family.” Stiles made a questioning noise as they went back inside. “He does woodwork. He learned from my grandfather when he was a kid and tried to teach me, but I just didn’t get into it. Cora is pretty good, though.”

“Thanks, bro!” Cora shouted as they entered the living room. Derek felt her eyes on him as she helped Laura with the stockings on the mantle, her quiet way of keeping an eye on him and his injury.

“That’s my name!” Stiles screeched, pointing at a red stocking hanging next to Derek’s on the mantle. His name was written in silver glitter on the front.

“Well, Santa has to have a place to put your presents,” Talia responded as she handed him a mug of coquito.

“Santa?” Stiles said, his lips twitching.

“Yes, Santa,” Cora said, her voice firm as she darted her eyes to Derek, who was sipping at his own mug and waiting for the teasing to begin.

When Derek was fifteen, it was discovered that he still believed in Santa Claus, despite hearing from everyone around him that the man didn’t exist. He was less than thrilled when he woke up one Christmas Eve sick as a dog and vomiting and discovered his parents filling the stockings and putting presents under the tree. Derek had refused to come out of his room for a week and only partially because he wasn’t feeling well. They’d ended up opening their gifts on New Year’s Day, much to his sisters’ fury. He’d been the butt of jokes ever since.

“Derek, do you believe in Santa?” Stiles asked, and Derek refused to answer and walked out of the room and into the kitchen, pretending to look for more coquito. He wasn’t alone for long.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy,” Stiles read from his phone before looking up at Derek. “There’s nothing wrong with believing in Santa, Derek.”

“I don’t think a man in a red suit flies around the world delivering presents to all the good little boys and girls,” Derek grumbled.

“But you believe in the Spirit of Santa Claus.” It wasn’t even a question, but Derek nodded anyway. “Good. So, do I.” Derek looked up in surprise. “Team Believer, that’s us.”

“I’ll have the shirts made tomorrow,” Derek mumbled, but he gave Stiles a small smile when he laughed at the joke. 

“Now, can we go ask your dad about the vise?” Stiles asked, elbowing him gently. “And maybe your mom for the recipe for this delicious coconut nog?”

“Ancient family secret. I don’t even know how to make it. And it’s called coquito,” Derek explained, leading Stiles out of the kitchen.

“Guess I’ll have to work my way into the family, then. Wonder if Cora would be interested in marrying a gay man…” Derek didn’t want to admit that the feeling that filled him at that statement was unhappiness. 

Derek’s dad had brought up a couple of vises and attached them to the deck’s railing before disappearing back inside. Once he was gone, Stiles set one of the tin cans in its jaws, tightening them until the can was secure without being crushed. He then took a nail and hammer and punched holes into the surface while Derek watched, trying not to laugh when Stiles barely missed hitting himself on the thumb a few times.

Once he was done, he ran some heavy-duty sandpaper around the inside of the can. Cutting off a piece of wire, he threaded one end through a hole near the lip of the can and twisted it before repeating the action with the other end on the other side. Finally, he took one of the solar-powered tea lights they’d picked up at the home improvement store and placed it into the bottom of the can before hanging it on the tree.

Standing back, he frowned at the can and pulled it back down. “Does your dad have brown paint or varnish?” he questioned, and Derek nodded, thinking of the stack of paint cans they kept in the garage.

Once they’d gotten a couple of cans and rags, Stiles dipped a rag in one of the cans and rubbed it into the can. Wiping it on with one rag and off with the other until the can appeared slightly worn and rusted. Smiling, he hung it on the tree again, and Derek had to admit it looked better.

“Just wait until the sun goes down and they light up,” Stiles said, standing next to him. “Now, let's get the garland finished.” He eyed Derek. “You stay away from the needles and gather pine cones!”

“What about the needles on the pine trees?” Derek teased as he headed down the steps onto the grass. 

The advantage of living on the edge of the preserve was the variety of trees. The pines grew farther into the woods. A few oaks and one large maple were right on the property’s edge, so Derek bypassed those and headed deeper. He could hear Stiles singing along with the music playing from his phone and tapping the nail against the tin cans. It was a unique project. He imagined the tree would turn into an exciting project; he’d liked Stiles' suggestion of it becoming a tradition in the family.

It was strange that it had only been a couple of days since Derek had come home and found a stranger thrust into his life. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Stiles. With everything going on in his life, it was hard to focus on a new person. Derek got a text from his agent asking about his latest project’s progress as he was walking. He debated attempting to block her number. It would be easier to ignore her than to admit that the only work he’d gotten done in the last few weeks was the sketches he’d started the night before based on the story Stiles had told.

He reached a copse of pine trees, the forest floor littered with needles and cones, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. As he gathered cones, being a bit picky on which ones he chose, he quickly became loaded down and began to drop them. Huffing out a breath, he set the cones down on a small stump located near the edge, wondering if it had been a past Christmas Tree for someone, maybe the town square based on the size of the stump. 

Shrugging out of his jacket, he unbuttoned his flannel shirt. He laid it on the ground before pulling the jacket back on, the slight bite of the approaching night air making it necessary. Laying the cones onto the center of the shirt, he collected a few more to add to the pile before folding in the edges and tying the sleeves around it to create an easy to carry bundle.

When he reached the house, the deck was empty, and three more tin can lanterns were hanging on the tree. He set the bundle down on the table, heading inside to find Stiles on his laptop in the kitchen, a soft smile on his face, eyes bright. Glancing over his shoulder as he passed, he saw a man he recognized as Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles’ father. Next to him was one of the nurses from Beacon General that must be Stiles’ stepmother. They were smiling and laughing, but Stiles had earbuds in, so he could only hear Stiles’ side of the conversation. He smiled at the string of “yes, dad” and “no, dad” coming from Stiles’ mouth.

He opened the fridge to grab out a soda, popping the cap and heading back out to the deck, freezing when he heard Stiles say. “Yeah, that’s Derek.” Taking a step back, he held up a hand and waved at the screen as Stiles took his earbuds out and unplugged them from the laptop. 

“Happy holidays, Derek!” Sheriff Stilinski called out.

“To you, as well, sir,” Derek responded with a smile. 

“Been a long time since I’ve seen you around our sleepy little town,” he responded. Melissa nodded, a sparkle in her eye, and he prayed she wouldn’t pull out any stories from one of his visits to the emergency room as a kid. “Stiles said you’re moving back?”

Derek’s ears burned, and he ducked his head. “For a little while at least,” he muttered. “Had some things change and…”

The Sheriff made a sympathetic sound. “Well, I hope that you enjoy your time at home. I know I love having Stiles living with me.”

“Yeah, right, dad,” Stiles argued, but his smile was bright. “I told you I’m looking for a place, but it’s hard to beat free room and board.”

“You stay as long as you need to, honey,” Melissa said and then looked over her shoulder. “Time for dinner. We’re at the captain’s table tonight.”

“That explains the fancy-schmancy dress,” Stiles teased, pointing at the undone bow tie around his father’s neck. “Talk to you soon.”

“You bet. Nice to see you, Derek,” he said.

“You, too, sir.”

“Call me John,” he countered before turning back to Stiles. “I love you, son.”

“Love you more, daddio.” Stiles reached out and ended the call with one hand while wiping at his eyes with the other. Derek didn’t even think before squeezing his shoulder. 

They stood like that while Stiles pulled himself together. After a deep, shuddering breath, he got to his feet, and Derek followed him back outside. Without talking, they settled down at their respective tasks and worked together to finish decorating the tree. As the sun sank down behind the trees, the lanterns began to glow, and Derek had to admit it really was a beautiful tree.

Derek’s eyes shot open, staring at the darkened ceiling around him. He picked up his phone to see it was two-thirty. He’d only gone to bed a couple of hours earlier, falling asleep almost immediately to the sound of Stiles’ sleepy muttering. Glancing around, he tried to find the source of whatever had woken him. His attention went to the bed, and he pushed up on his elbows to see over the edge where Stiles was moving fitfully under the covers.

He started to sit up and reach for him when a startled gasp escaped Stiles, and he shot up in bed, eyes wide and wet as they met Derek’s. “S...s-orry,” he gasped out, and Derek shook his head, relieved when Stiles attempted to smile in return. “I’m gonna go…” he trailed off and pointed at the door. Derek nodded again, remembering the night he came home and wondered if a nightmare was what had led Stiles to the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Derek watched him go, debating going after him or going back to sleep. As he laid back down, Derek knew that there was no way he would sleep again right away, so he crawled off the mattress and stepped into the hall. The shower in the bathroom next to his room turned on as he stepped into the hallway. 

Derek debated going downstairs to make something to drink or waiting like a creeper outside the bathroom. He didn’t want to risk startling Stiles when he came out, but he really didn’t want to risk waking his family by going downstairs.

He stood there long enough debating that he changed his mind entirely and headed up to the attic. He’d had an itch all day to work on something, anything. He’d thought he would work on a few more sketches for the story Stiles had told but instead found himself sketching the Christmas Tree on the deck. The charcoal swept over the page in small quick lines, and once he’d gotten the basic idea down, he tilted his head to study it. 

Standing, Derek crossed to one of the boxes he hadn’t unpacked and dug through it to find the tin of pastels his sister had gifted him a few months earlier. He hadn’t used it, usually waiting to color his drawings once they were scanned into the computer, but this one had him itching to continue on the paper.

He worked carefully to tint the cranberries on the tree with red before moving to the cardinal he’d drawn standing on the railing behind the tree. Once he was satisfied with the red, he studied the drawing again. He knew he didn’t want to color everything, wanted to keep the kind of rustic look to it. His eyes traced over the different colors before reaching for the yellow. Pushing his tongue out carefully between his teeth, he carefully added a glow around each of the lanterns. 

He was just finishing the tree topper Stiles had created by gluing together the bottom ends of two tins when he heard his name called softly from below. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was now nearly seven a.m., and he stood, groaning at the clench of his back muscles. Moving to the opening, he looked down to see a sleepy Stiles leaning against the handrail.

“Hey,” Derek said.

“Sorry I woke you,” Stiles said. “Did you get any more sleep?”

“No, but I got some work done,” he responded, moving down the stairs carefully, chuckling when Stiles moved from leaning on the railing to lean on Derek. “What about you?”

“I dozed off in the shower for a little bit. Cold water woke me up,” Stiles muttered. Derek didn’t want to point out that the hot water heater in the house could’ve kept going for up to an hour before becoming what he would qualify as cold. “Then I tried to go back to bed but ended up binging  _ Lucifer _ .”

“Good show. That’ll keep you up. You should’ve tried watching one of the yule log videos on YouTube,” Derek suggested. He took a couple of steps, reaching an arm out to wrap around Stiles when he nearly fell. “Let’s get you some coffee before I go for my run.”

“Me, too,” Stiles said around a yawn, patting at Derek’s chest when he rumbled out a laugh. “I’ll be good after coffee. Nectar of the gods, it is.”

Talia was in the kitchen, sitting at the smaller table in the breakfast nook, sipping at her own mug and flipping through the newspaper. She raised her eyebrows when they stumbled into the room and pointed to the coffee pot. Derek dropped Stiles into one of the chairs and went to pour them both coffee before bringing it to the table.

“What’s the plan for today, boys?” Talia asked, her lips curving into a gentle smile as Stiles moaned into his mug, mumbling nonsense to himself.

“I have shopping to do. I wasn’t quite finished when…” Derek had been planning to do his yearly mad dash around the mall on the day he’d come home to find Braeden waiting for him, her ring on the table in front of her. After that, he’d packed up and come home, everything else forgotten.

“Stiles?” Talia asked, and they both chuckled at the boy when his head jerked up, eyes blinking sleepily. “What are you going to do today?”

“The same thing I do every day, try to take over the world,” he muttered before yawning and stretching with a groan. When he was done, he looked mildly more aware of his surroundings. “I mean, shopping.”

Derek thought about suggesting they go together, but he wanted to pick something up for Stiles and couldn’t do that with him along for the trip. He finished his own coffee and rinsed the mug before putting it into the dishwasher. “What are you doing today, mom?”

“Your father got me a day at the spa. I suspect he’s working on a project in the basement and doesn’t want me around while he’s doing it. Still, a day of being pampered before things really get crazy is not something I am going to turn down.” She was right. With only three days until Christmas, things around the house would amp up, relatives coming in from out of town to stay. If Derek wasn’t already sharing his room with Stiles, he’d be sharing it with one of his cousins.

“Hey, you aren’t going to need the attic for any of the visiting family, are you?” He dreaded having to pack up all of his stuff and hide it away. Even though his family knew what he did for a living, he didn’t really want anyone getting into his things.

“No, it’s only going to be Peter and Faith with their kids. Your Uncle Brian and his crazy bunch are going to Aunt Rose’s for the holidays.” Despite loving all of their family, it would be nice not to have the extra family of nine taking up all of the extra space in the house. “So, just the one spare room should be fine, but I bet that Ansel will end up with you at some point.”

Derek had written and illustrated his first book for Ansel when he was born. In fact, Peter and Faith had taken his name from the book, so Ansel was convinced that the aardwolf in the book was based on him and told everyone in the world that his cousin Derek loved him best. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. He just hoped the young teen wouldn’t disrupt Stiles too much if he did share the room with them or give away Derek’s secret.

“Ansel?”

“Derek’s oldest cousin who has a bit of a case of hero-worship when it comes to him,” Talia explained. “Pretty much follows him around the entire holiday season.”

“He’s a teenager now, so maybe he’s finally outgrown it. Decided he’s too cool for his cousin,” Derek suggested, only a bit hopefully. He did genuinely like Ansel. He was funny and relatively smart for a kid his age.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Stiles said, with a smile as he drained the rest of his coffee. “For now, I think Derek and I are going for a run?”

Derek nodded, and they both went upstairs to change before heading out, taking a different route that day. It took them past the high school close to the Preserve, and Stiles talked about playing lacrosse when he went there, while Derek talked about the basketball team and how much he missed playing. They argued playfully about which sport was better and finally agreed to disagree when they arrived back at the house.

Derek was finishing fussing with his hair when he heard Stiles clambering down the stairs to the front door, his keys jangling loudly as he went. Derek had to laugh at the loud thump that meant Stiles had probably leaped over at least the bottom two stairs to land in the foyer, something he’d been doing himself since he was a kid. Moving into his room, Derek changed into something comfortable to wear to the mall. He knew it would be crowded. He hated crowds, so he chose something light to avoid overheating and making the experience that much worse. 

He shrugged into his leather jacket and went downstairs. He passed his father as he headed into the basement, a focused look on his face, and he knew his mom had been right about him having a project to work on. Derek was tempted to ask, but he knew how he felt when he was interrupted while working on a project. 

Stepping through the front door, he was surprised to find Stiles still there, the hood of his Jeep up and his head ducked underneath. “Problem?” he called.

“Roscoe won’t start,” Stiles said, frowning as he poked under the hood. “Usually, I can figure it out, but I’m lost this time.”

Derek came to stand next to him and gaped at the amount of duct tape wrapped around various parts of the engine. Even if he didn’t know about cars from summers working at the garage in town, he would know that wasn’t normal. “It’s possibly electrical. Could your battery be dead?”

“That’s possible,” Stiles said with a shrug. “At this point, anything is possible. Guess I won’t be getting any shopping done today.”

“I’ll drive you. I’m heading that way anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Stiles said, but he was already closing the hood of his Jeep.

“You mentioned wanting help picking things out for my sisters,” Derek told him. “This way, I can help.”

“Deal,” Stiles said with a grin as he followed Derek to his car and climbed in, immediately reaching for the radio dial and getting a swat to his hands for the effort. “We have to listen to Christmas music to get us in the mood!” he argued, and Derek sighed and gave in, figuring it was easier than putting up a fight.

Stiles sang along with the music loudly. Between songs, he explained that he’d grown up celebrating Hanukkah with his Jewish parents. Stiles was proud of his heritage, but his mom didn’t want him to feel left out with his other classmates. She always put up a Christmas tree and made sure Santa visited Stiles so that he wouldn’t. He’d gotten teased by the kids who got stacks of presents from Santa, while Stiles usually only got one. He didn’t care. That one gift meant the world to him because it was always the one thing he didn’t think he’d ever get, something his parents didn’t approve of or couldn’t afford. 

“That explains why you believe in Santa Claus,” Derek said with a smile. “Does your dad still do that?” Derek had already told him that Talia still made them all go to bed early so that Santa could come and leave presents even though they were all adults.

Stiles looked out the window, his hands twisting in his lap. “We don’t really celebrate anymore,” he said quietly. “Dad usually takes a shift at the station, so the deputies with young kids can be home with their family. Sometimes I go to Scott’s, but mostly, I stayed home and played video games or watched movies.” Derek started to say something, but Stiles gave a wet laugh and turned the radio up, singing along to “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas!” at the top of his lungs.

Derek let the topic go, but he became determined to make sure Stiles had a perfect Christmas; many lonely ones needed to be made up for. He knew if he told his mother, she would double her already Herculean efforts to include Stiles in all the celebrations. His mind was still going over things they could do when they got to the mall, and Stiles jumped out of the car, halfway to the doors, when Derek caught up to him after texting what he had found out to his mother.

The mall was just as crowded as Derek expected. Parents chasing children hopped up on sugar and hot chocolate, desperate to see Santa with their last-minute gift requests. Harried mothers hurrying from store to store loaded down with bags full of things they would probably spend the next two days wrapping to put under the tree. As they passed a jewelry store, he spotted a young man looking pale as he held up a diamond ring to the light, and Derek felt a twinge in his chest.

Stiles grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him from where he froze in front of the store, and he shot him a grateful smile. “I don’t know the whole story, but from what I do know, you don’t need to be watching that,” he said, pulling him into a brightly-lit store that was filled with make-up. “Do you think your sisters would like something from here?”

Derek shook his head, and it was his turn to take Stiles by the arm and drag him back out into the mall. They headed to the gaming store, and he helped Stiles pick out a set of headphones for Cora. At the same time, Derek bought a gaming keyboard and mouse that matched, knowing Cora was always trying to upgrade her setup. He was also going to try and get her a new ring light because she’d struggled with her current one on the last couple of Twitch streams he’d snuck into to keep an eye on her.

“I didn’t even know she was into gaming,” Stiles said, looking awed. “All these days at your house, and we could’ve been competing!” 

Derek laughed. “She’d probably kick your ass; she’s been kicking mine for years, and I’m the one that got her into gaming in the first place.”

“You game?” Stiles asked.

“Used to,” Derek responded; it was another thing that he’d had less time for once he’d focused on his writing. Still, it wasn’t a significant loss to him because it was always just something to fight boredom for him anyway. “Haven’t had much time, and I was never super into it. I preferred reading.”

“I did both. The video games at home and the reading when I was at the station while my dad worked. I got a lot of books read; it used to drive some of my teacher’s nuts because while my classmates were reading Runaway Ralph, I was reading The Maze Runner.”

“Not a bad choice,” Derek commented as they made their way to the next store, a craft store. He needed to pick up some more charcoals, and he had some ideas for Laura that would be easy to get there. “I never finished reading the series, but I saw all the movies. They weren’t bad.” He studied Stiles. “Thomas kind of reminds me of you.”

Stiles sputtered, gesturing wildly with his hands conveying a message Derek didn’t understand. Before he could question him, Stiles was distracted by something on the shelves. He hoisted up the large round skein of yarn and gaped at it as he showed Derek. “Have you ever seen such a huge yarn ball?”

Derek shook his head but moved closer so he could read the side of the wrapper. “Looks like it just takes one of these and one hook to make an entire blanket,” he said.

Stiles turned the skein in his hands. He looked down the aisle before walking down it, eyes tracing the wall and then glancing down at the wrapper before looking up again. “Do you know how to knit?” 

“No, but my mom showed me how to crochet when I was a kid. I never finished a project, and it’s been a while, but I bet I could figure it out.” He looked determined as he kept checking the packages on the wall and the skein in his hand. 

Derek left him to his search and continued over a few rows until he found what he’d had in mind for Laura. Last Christmas, their mom had signed Laura up for a craft of the month club, and a few months ago, she’d gotten a diamond painting kit. She’d texted Derek about it, showing him all the small pieces, and they laughed about how tedious the project would be, but Laura loved crafting and was determined to at least give it a try.

After a few days, Derek had gotten a photo of the completed project, and Laura was hooked. She always had at least one project going at a time, and he knew that she’d done one of a wolf and had it framed and given to their mother for her birthday that year. He looked at all of the different kits, none of them calling out to him, but then his gaze landed on the other accessory kits. He remembered Laura complaining about the struggle of keeping the kits organized.

He picked up a tray organizer that held eight trays simultaneously and a small case that held sixty small jars to hold diamonds. He also grabbed something called an “essential kit” with a funnel and some more pen things that placed the diamonds on the canvas. He really didn’t understand the whole thing, but he had watched a couple of videos for gift ideas. He would get her a gift card to the craft store as well; that was always a big hit.

Stiles found him as he shifted the basket from one hand to another. He wished he’d grabbed one of the shopping carts instead, especially when Stiles added two large skeins of yarn and several hooks to the already growing pile. He raised an eyebrow at Stiles, who had the decency to look sheepish and reach out to attempt to grab the basket, but Derek held it out of his reach.

He was quickly distracted by the kits hanging on the wall. “What are these?”

Derek explained and told him how much Laura enjoyed doing them. “Then I’ll get her one of those,” Stiles decided, taking time to look at each one before settling on one of Van Gogh’s  _ Starry Night _ . Once they checked out, they ran their bags to the car, throwing them into the back before heading back inside and over to the bookstore.

The store was Stiles’ idea, but it worked for Derek as well. He usually picked up a gift card for Oliver there, the man loved to read, and Derek had a hard time keeping up with what he had and hadn’t read. Stiles bee-lined for a shelf of recently released best sellers and picked one up. “Oliver was talking about this at lunch the other day,” Stiles explained. “Done and done.”

Derek started to head for the registers, but Stiles ventured deeper into the store. He followed, slowing when he realized Stiles was moving toward the children’s section at the back of the store. He knew that no one outside of his family and agents knew he was Garrett Roue, but it still made him nervous whenever he was close to his books.

As soon as Stiles crossed beneath the archway into the children’s area, a small voice shouted, “Mr. S!” and a slight blur threw itself at Stiles’ legs, nearly tumbling him to the ground. If it hadn’t been for Derek reaching out and catching him by the arm, Stiles would have hurt himself.

“Do you know this howler monkey?” Derek asked, looking down at the little girl with blonde pigtails grinning up, her two upper teeth growing in.

“I’m not a monkey! I’m a Darla!” the girl said, but she was giggling.

“Darla is one of my students,” Stiles explained, managing to untangle himself from her arms and squatting down to eye level. “She’s my best reader. Are you here getting books?”

“Yeah!” she said, shouting for her father. He appeared carrying several books in his hands that he dropped when Darla grabbed the largest one and whirled around to show Stiles, whacking Derek in the thigh as she went.

He shifted his weight and tried to hide the wince on his face, but the smirk on Stiles’ face told him he failed. He turned his attention to the little girl when she said, “I’m getting your favorite book!”

Derek choked as he saw the book from Stiles’ room, the drawings he knew so well right in his face. He’d had the cover framed to celebrate the release. It used to hang on his office wall at the apartment but now sat in the attic wrapped in plain paper. He’d probably hang it in his bedroom once the holidays were over. 

“You like that one?” he asked, clearing his throat when it came out rougher than usual.

“Mr. S. read it to us on the first day of school!” The little girl’s voice was a screech, and Derek fought the urge to rub at his ears. “It’s about a...a…”

“An aardwolf,” Stiles supplied.

“An aardwolf that got lost and other animals helped him find his wheelbarrow!” 

“His burrow,” Derek corrected, and Stiles shot a glance at him. “And did he find it?” Derek squatted down, so he was eye level with her. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone this excited about his books in person.

“They did! And his mommy and daddy were so happy to see him because he was a brand new baby!” She tried to open the book and turn the pages, but it kept slipping, so Derek held it so that she could find what she was looking for. She stopped on the last page, a drawing of the tiny aardwolf family curled together into a pile with swirls of browns around them to suggest the burrow. “Then they puppy-piled!”

“They did, huh?” The little girl nodded eagerly. “What’s your name?”

“Darla,” the little girl said with a grin. “What’s yours?”

“Derek.”

“Do you like this book, Mr. Derek?” she asked.

“I like all of this author’s books, but I have a special place in my heart for this one,” he told her. “I have a cousin named Ansel.”

“Like the baby aardwolf! That’s so cool!” She continued to chatter, and Derek saw Stiles watching her with rapt attention. He glanced at Derek a couple of times, and they shared small smiles.

Eventually, Darla’s dad reappeared to collect her. “I’m sorry if she’s talked your ears off.”

Derek winked at Darla and touched his ears. “Nope, still there. Merry Christmas, Darla,” he said, standing back up. She surprised him by wrapping her arms around Derek’s waist and returning the greeting before following her father up the register, the book hugged tightly to her chest.

“Cute kid,” he told Stiles.

“She’s one of my favorites,” he said, blushing. “I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but she’s just so smart, and she reminds me of myself at that age. Even my father said as much the first time he met her.” Stiles made his way deeper into the section. Derek spotted a small display of his books, including the most recent from the previous summer. “You were good with her.”

“I like kids. I always have. They don’t judge.” Reaching out, he picked up  _ The Moon and the Stars _ , smiling down at the monkeys climbing the tree on the cover. He’d spent days trying to perfect the sky behind the tree, drawing inspiration from Van Gogh. It took a lot of trial and error with shading to make the stars look like they were actually sparkling in the sky.

“His stuff is great, isn’t it?” Stiles asked, jerking his chin toward the book in Derek’s hand as Stiles started grabbing a few copies of each of Derek’s books. “I’ve been a fan since his first book came out; one of my professors in college used it in an Elementary Literature class. I loved the artwork. The pictures are just so alive.”

Derek hummed meaninglessly, a bit uncomfortable discussing his own work without sounding full of himself. He set the book back on the shelf and picked up a box that contained a puzzle of Ansel and his family ‘puppy-piled’. Derek remembered his agent mentioning puzzles, but he hadn’t seen one before. He was impressed with the quality and knew that his cousin was a fan of jigsaw puzzles, so he thought it was the perfect Christmas gift.

“I bid on a print of the cover of  _ The Flying Fishing Boat  _ but lost terribly. I prefer his animal art, but just to have something of his to hang on my classroom wall would’ve been so cool.” Stiles sounded wistful, and Derek was struck by inspiration. His mind switched from the mall, and all he wanted to do was get back to the house, but first, he had to make a return visit to the crafting store.

It was another couple of hours before they managed to escape the mall. Derek had ducked into the craft store while Stiles searched through the men’s clothing store for a jacket for his father. He picked up the items he needed, probably overbuying but not wanting to have to stop and leave once he got into the swing of his planned project. Once they met up again, they headed to the car. Derek checked his phone and saw a text from Laura received just a couple of minutes earlier.  _ “We need at least another hour. Don’t ask, just stay away.” _

Derek gripped the steering wheel, fighting to come up with an idea to keep them away from the house while trying to figure out what his crazy family was up to in his absence. He started to drive, hoping he could move in circles for a bit before Stiles noticed, but as soon as he turned left out of the parking lot, Stiles called him out on it.

“I’m hungry,” Derek exclaimed when his eyes fell on the small pizzeria where he used to go with his family in high school. 

“I could eat,” Stiles said, and he actually bounced in his seat and clapped his hands when Derek pulled into the parking lot. “I love Mario’s!”

Dinner was fun. They quickly agreed on a meat lover’s pizza. Stiles told him how he never let his dad have them, so this was a treat for Stiles; he didn’t need to feel guilty eating it in front of his dad. Derek threatened to send a photo, but Stiles just pointed out that he didn’t have the Sheriff’s cell phone number. 

They fought over the bill. Derek allowed Stiles to pay only after he agreed to let Derek get them ice cream from the old-fashioned parlor a few doors down from the pizzeria. The place was lit up, and Derek grinned when they entered and heard a wolf whistle from behind the counter. 

“Where have you been all my life, gorgeous?” the blonde behind the counter called out, vaulting the counter and launching herself at Derek.

He caught her easily and laughed as she squeezed him tightly. He glanced over her shoulder and saw Stiles looking down at the screen of his phone, frowning. “Down, Erica,” Derek said, dropping her to the ground. Luckily, she landed on her feet and punched him in the arm. “Do you know Stiles?”

She turned her blue eyes on Stiles. She bit into her lip as she looked him up and down, and Derek felt a flare of something unidentifiable in his chest. “Hello, Stiles,” she purred, holding her hand out.

Stiles smirked as he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, gentling a kiss across the knuckles. Erica threw her head back, roaring with laughter before throwing her arms around Stiles’ neck with as much enthusiasm as she had Derek’s. “You two know each other.” It wasn’t a question.

“You forget how small a town Beacon Hills actually is,” she said, poking Derek in the stomach. “Plus, he’s Adriannah’s teacher.” Erica was one of his best friends from high school; they’d kept in touch, but she still had no idea what he did for a living. Adriannah was her child with Boyd, the man she’d been in love with for as long as Derek had known them.

“Still working here?” Derek asked, studying the menu above the board.

“I knew you didn’t read the Christmas letters!” Erica cried, smacking him on the arm and rolling her eyes at Stiles. He had a hand over his mouth, unsuccessfully hiding his laughter. “Boyd and I bought the place last year when Finstock decided to retire to Florida!” 

The door to the back swung open, and Boyd appeared in the opening, arms loaded down with two tubs of ice cream. “Who are we yelling at today?” he asked as he set the tubs inside the coolers. Boyd’s face broke into a broad, bright smile when he spotted Derek. “I thought you were dead!” he crowed, moving quickly around the corner. 

Derek allowed himself to be pulled into a bear hug that cracked his back. He was surprised by Boyd’s enthusiasm; usually, the man was severe and taciturn. He didn’t have any complaints about the changes as he returned the hug, grinning at the grunt he pulled from Boyd. “Good to see you, man.”

“You back for the holidays?” Boyd asked, releasing him but keeping one arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“Back for good, I think,” Derek responded, laughing when Erica squealed again and threw herself at him. The three of them hit the ground in a pile, and Derek wasn’t even surprised when he heard the click of Stiles’ camera. 

“Adriannah’s going to be thrilled to have Uncle Derek around!” Erica whispered, her eyes filled with tears. 

Stiles helped them all up off the floor when the bell over the door jangled. Erica and Boyd went back behind the counter to help the new customers. Derek and Stiles waited patiently and then placed orders for double-scoop cones. They sat at a table in the corner, hoping that Erica and Boyd could join them, but the door kept opening and letting in more people. 

Derek suggested they leave when he spotted a young couple looking for a table. The young man stuttered out his thanks, and Stiles nudged him towards the girl’s chair, gesturing that he should pull it out. The couple blushed when he did, and Derek dragged Stiles to the door before he could embarrass them any further.

Stiles' laughter rang into the night as they exited the building to head back to the car. “First dates are the worst,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “I remember the first time I took Lydia out; it was the worst.”

“Lydia Martin?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, you know her? I know we’re a few years younger than you, but she’s this big deal literary agent in New York.” Pride filled his voice, and that strange feeling in Derek’s chest returned. “She’s the one that told me about Garrett Roue’s auction in the first place. He’s one of her biggest clients, but she refuses to tell me anything about him.” He growled under his breath, and Derek chuckled.

He couldn’t tell Stiles that he knew Lydia. He shouldn’t have been surprised they knew each other. The main reason he’d switched his representation from the agent he’d been with since a teenager to Lydia was that she was from Beacon Hills. He’d never met her before that first meeting in her office, but she’d immediately impressed him. She’d lived up to that first impression by doing a fantastic job in the two years he’d been with her.

“She was my first love and really the only reason that it took me so long to figure out that I was gay, despite the fact our first and only date had ended with her telling me that I was.” Stiles laughed, but Derek was horrified.

“She told you that you were gay? That’s rude!” 

“No, no, no. It was more that she psychoanalyzed me by stating my obsession with her was really a defense mechanism to keep from admitting something to myself about myself.” Stiles shook his head. “I spent the entire night trying to figure out what she meant and ended up in a Google wormhole that led to gay porn.”

Derek opened his mouth and closed it several times before shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know.” He did know that he would be asking Lydia about Stiles the next time he talked to her. She was good at her job, but she might need to be reminded that his identity was a secret from everyone unless he approved it first.

“I don’t think I could retrace my steps if I tried,” Stiles admitted, rubbing his hands over his cheeks, and Derek felt the tips of his own ears turning warm.

The next few minutes were quiet in the car until Derek reached over and turned up the radio. Soft instrumental Christmas music filled the car. He glanced over at Stiles and saw him looking out the window, reflecting the Christmas lights on the businesses lighting up his face. When they passed the toy store with their elaborate display, Stiles’ smile grew brighter, and Derek got an idea.

Derek turned off the main road when they reached the edge of town and the higher-income neighborhood’s entrance. Stiles looked over at him in confusion. “They always have the best Christmas lights in here,” Derek explained.

“I swear the McMansions come with a holiday upgrade,” Stiles joked, but his next comment was cut off with a gasp as they turned onto the first occupied street. 

Every single house was decorated, and the lights were bright enough to chase away the night. Derek could have turned off his headlights and have no problem making his way down the street. Still, he knew that several deputies patrolled this neighborhood, keeping an eye out for those looking at the houses and not the seasonal displays. Stiles pointed out a place with giant nutcrackers on each side of the door. A parade of tin soldiers lined the walkway, and at the end, there was a large basket of gifts. “Take one!” printed on a sign on the side.

Pulling to the side, Stiles climbed out and grabbed one of the wrapped presents and shouted out, “Thank you!” to the house, laughing when the light on the porch flashed once. 

Inside the car, Stiles unwrapped the package carefully. He pulled out a postcard with a photo of the house and “Happy Holidays from Beacon Hills” on the front. There was a note on the back thanking them for stopping to look at the lights. Stiles handed it to Derek, and he tucked it above the visor.

The box’s next item was a small tin of gingerbread cookies with a coupon for two free hot cocoas from the town’s coffee shop. “I know where we’re going next,” Stiles said, waving the coupon at him.

“Tomorrow,” Derek said, taking the box from Stiles and turning to put it in the back seat of the car before continuing on to the next house.

It took them around an hour to wind through the neighborhood entirely, and they were munching on candy canes from one of the houses as they approached the street where they’d started out. Derek’s phone buzzed with a text, and he saw it was his sister, wondering if they’d gotten lost. “Think they miss us,” he told Stiles.

“We’ve been gone a while. Thanks for the help with gifts today,” Stiles said before smacking a hand to his forehead. “I didn’t get you anything!”

“I don’t need anything,” he told him. He could’ve followed that up by saying that Stiles had given him memories to carry with him, but that would sound cheesy and give the wrong idea. 

“None of us  _ need _ anything,” Stiles chided. “It’s not about need. I  _ want _ to give you something.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough,” Stiles said, his voice the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “I know you’re an international spy that never sleeps and loves his family a whole lot.”

Blushing, Derek reached over and gently smacked Stiles upside the back of his head. “Shut up.”

Stiles’ quiet laughter filled the car for the rest of the ride home, dying off as they broke through the trees with another gasp. Derek echoed the noise as his house came into view, lights covering it nearly as much as the ones they’d just left. Santa and his reindeer were on the roof near the chimney, and the lawn was covered with blow-up lawn ornaments. Stiles giggled and pointed at them all, especially the one of a small boy in a red hoodie and a big black wolf with a red bow around his neck.

“It’s us!” Stiles exclaimed. Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a grumpy old wolf, and I’m always wearing my red hoodie!” He plucked at the item in question.

“I’m not a wolf,” Derek grumbled.

“Sure, you’re not,” Stiles said, jumping out of the car as soon as it was stopped and Derek’s family came pouring out of the house.

Derek was slower exiting the car. He smiled at the laughter and overlapping voices coming from the crowd on the lawn. Christmas was always a big deal to his family, but Derek could tell just how much more effort they’d put into it just to make Stiles’ holidays a little bit better. He saw his sister gesturing towards the house, and Stiles put a hand over his heart as they all stared at the menorah in the window. 

“We didn’t know how to light the candles or which ones we should light,” Cora explained. “We hoped you would share your holiday with us.”

Derek grabbed the bags out of the car while his family took Stiles inside for their Hanukkah lesson. He hurried to leave everything in their room. Derek hesitated in the hallway. Part of him wanted to go upstairs and finish the idea he’d had while they were at the bookstore, but he didn’t want to miss out on a minute of celebrating with Stiles. He raced down the stairs calling out for them to wait for him before they lit any candles.

It was after midnight before Laura and Oliver left to go home. Derek’s parents headed off to bed, and Cora was already asleep on the couch in the living room. Derek started to wake her, but his mother told him to leave her there; she’d wake up and take herself upstairs eventually. Nodding, Derek followed Stiles upstairs, but instead of going into his room, he took the steps to the ladder.

“Super secret spy stuff?” Stiles asked around a yawn. Derek laughed as he nodded and headed upstairs. “Good night, Derek. Don’t stay up too late. Your mom said we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Family’s coming first thing in the morning,” Derek agreed. “I’ll try to keep it quick.” He heard the bedroom door close as he turned the lamp on over the drafting table. Flipping back the blank page, his eyes traced the page. The tree looked as he remembered it, and now that he wasn’t going to be scanning the page into the computer, he needed to fix the smudged spots from earlier.

Working quickly, he turned the sweep of one smudge into a fox, curled up under the tree. The tip of his tail wound over his nose, black eyes peeking over the fluff. Grinning, Derek added a scarf around its neck, a line of pine trees along the one end. Sitting back, he traced the drawing with his eyes. It was uneven and needed something else. Dropping his head back to roll it on his shoulders, his neck cracking as he went, his eyes fell on the photo of the wolf. Grinning, Derek grabbed it, clipping it to the corner of the page and getting back to work.

“This is becoming a habit,” Stiles called from the stairs. 

Derek looked over his shoulder at Stiles, his eyes heavy with the sleep he hadn’t gotten. On the plus side, he’d finished the drawing, and he hoped that if he ran into town with it, he could get it framed at the small shop in town. They’d done rush orders before, and it was imperative it was done before Christmas morning.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Derek grumbled. He reached for the setting spray and coated the drawing, smiling at the wolf mirroring the fox. He was proud of the picture. A story began to form in his head. The level might be appropriate for young adults and would require fewer drawings. Snapping a photo of the drawing, he sent it off to Lydia with a quick message that said, “ _ We’ll talk AFTER Christmas _ .”

A mug of coffee waited for him on the floor by the opening, and Derek scooped it up as he climbed down. He nearly dropped it when Ansel popped up from the floor next to the stairs with a shouted, “Derek!”

“Kid,” Derek said, laughing when Ansel growled. He pulled him into a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to Ansel’s hair and laughing when Ansel pinched his stomach in retaliation.

“So, who’s Stiles?” he asked once they were done wrestling. 

Derek had managed not to spill any of his coffee, but he swallowed wrong when Ansel asked that question. “The Sheriff’s son. Auntie Talia didn’t want him spending the holidays alone.”

“He’s in your room.” Ansel pouted.

“You can share the air mattress with me,” Derek offered. “Or are you too big and bad to share a bed with your lousy cousin Derek?”

Ansel’s face turned pensive, and Derek started to ask what was wrong, but he was distracted by Stiles’ appearance. “You’re dressed up.”

Stiles tugged at his tie. “Yeah. I’m going to go see my mom today.”

“Do you need a ride?” He knew the Jeep was still sitting in the driveway, and maybe he could take a look at it later in the day. He might even be able to call Boyd; he’d worked at the garage until he’d bought the ice cream parlor.

“Your mom is letting me take hers,” he answered. “Might do that shopping I missed out on, too.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Derek argued.

Stiles opened his mouth but was cut off by Ansel squeezing between them and heading down the stairs, quietly muttering to himself. “Is he always like that?”

“He’s a teenager. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years.” Derek watched him go, remembering the small kid that would attach himself to Derek’s back the entire time his family visited. Now, he got the occasional text and a couple of hand-written letters that had been assigned at school. Ansel had even cheated once and written one letter to Derek and one to Garret Roue. It had been fun for Derek to respond as Garrett, but he didn’t make a habit of communicating in that persona.

“Are you going to be okay?” Derek asked as Stiles started down the stairs. 

“Yeah. Usually, my dad goes with me, and we share stories,” he explained. “I thought about waiting until he got home, but…”

“I get it,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder before heading into his room to get ready for his own day. 

Ansel went with Derek to the frame shop, smiling at the drawing when Derek unrolled it. “Is this a new story?” Ansel had autographed copies of all of Derek’s books. He used to spend hours telling Derek stories to turn into books, and he’d used a few of them. 

“I’m thinking it might be a young adult book. My agent is pushing me to grow up with my audience.” He took the receipt from Mr. Walker. He promised to have the framing done by Christmas Eve afternoon; he’d even come up with the perfect idea for the frame. “Did you want to read it before I send it to my agent?”

“Will I get a dedication again?” 

“Absolutely,” Derek promised. 

It was good spending time with Ansel again. He was always a fun kid, but he’d grown up into a quirky and sarcastic teenager. He reminded Derek of his Uncle Peter when they were younger but without the slightly sadistic streak. They threw around ideas for the book. Ansel supplied enough input that Derek was already composing a special thank you to him for the book.

They stopped for ice cream, and Derek laughed as Ansel’s face burned under Erica’s borderline inappropriate attention. She teased him and asked about girlfriends. Ansel shrugged and looked out the window. Erica and Derek exchanged looks, and Erica excused herself by saying she needed to grab some more cups from storage.

Derek waited until Ansel turned his head back to him. “Ansel, you know that I’m bisexual, right?” he asked, speaking softly. It wasn’t a secret in the family; Derek had been raised without judgment, so coming out had been easy for him. When he was six, he’d announced that he was going to marry Tommy from his class, and his mother had helped him plan the wedding.

“Yeah,” Ansel responded, fingers fiddling with the straw wrapper from his milkshake. “You used to talk about that one guy before you met Braeden.” He took a drink from his milkshake. “What happened to her?”

“We broke up.” Derek was surprised when his heart didn’t clench as he said the words. “I’ve moved back to Beacon Hills.”

“Are you going to stay this time?” Beacon Hills was a lot closer to Ansel’s home, and it would be easy for Derek to visit whenever he was needed or just wanted.

“I’m going to start looking for a house when the holidays are over,” he told him. It was the first time he’d said the plan out loud, and that made it even more real for him. “In fact, if you want to stop by the realty place on the way home, we could pick up a few flyers.”

“You want me to help?” Ansel’s eyes were hopeful.

“No matter where I live, my door will  _ always _ be open to you,” Derek avowed, reaching over and placing a hand over Ansel’s. “And I’m always here to listen if you need to talk.”

“How did you know you were bi?” Ansel’s voice was low, but Derek hummed to acknowledge he’d heard him while he tried to put together an answer.

“I told you I wanted to marry Tommy when I was six. When I was ten, I wanted to marry Erica.” 

“I always knew you wanted me,” Erica quipped as she passed the table, dropping off another milkshake for Ansel with a wink.

“My crushes were on people, not what gender they were,” Derek told him.

“So, just girls and guys?” Ansel asked, chewing into his lip.

Derek considered the question, trying to parse out what he was trying to get at. “I suppose I could be considered pansexual. I choose to use bisexual because that is the identity I’ve used since I came out officially.”

Ansel nodded and opened his mouth before shutting it again. He sipped at his milkshake and returned to staring out the window. Derek could see the wheels turning in his head and didn’t want to disrupt Ansel’s self-reflection, so he finished off his sundae. He spent the time texting with Boyd, who was at home with Adriannah that day. He was waiting for a babysitter and then would head over to Derek’s to help with Stiles’ Jeep.

Ansel stayed quiet until they got into the car. Derek had just pulled away from the curb into the flow of traffic. “I’m pansexual,” he whispered. “There’s a person at school, and I really like them.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “They asked me out for New Year’s, and I told them I had to think about it.”

“Because you don’t want to go?” Derek questioned.

Ansel shook his head. “I wasn’t sure...I wanted to...I want to tell the family first. When we get back, I think.”

Derek reached over and squeezed Ansel’s hand. “You come out when you’re ready, but you should text your friend and tell them ‘yes’ before they think you’re blowing them off.” Ansel grinned and took his phone out, thumbs flying over the keys, and Derek returned his attention to the road. “Thank you for trusting me enough to come out to me first.”

“You’ve always been my best friend, Derek,” Ansel told him, his voice so sincere that Derek’s throat tightened up. “You know you can talk to me, too, right? I'm not a kid anymore.”

“I’m starting to see that,” he responded as they pulled into the driveway. 

Peter and Faith were on the porch swing, a blanket pulled over their laps. They were sipping at coffee mugs and swinging gently. “You’ve got this,” Derek said to Ansel as he climbed out of the car. His steps were slow as he approached, and Derek watched from the car, not wanting to interrupt the moment or hinder Ansel’s momentum. It took only a second before Peter pulled Ansel down onto the swing with them, hugging, and Derek could hear their laughter through the car windows.

Climbing out, he made his way up the steps, stopping and bursting into laughter when the swing collapsed between the combined weight of the three on it. He held back his laughter long enough to help them to their feet. “My son is pansexual,” Peter told Derek, the smile wide on his face. “And he has a date!”

Derek laughed and nudged Ansel, who was smiling and laughing and crying all at the same time. “I already knew, but you should leave the coming out to him from now on, yeah?” 

Peter looked horrified. “You told Derek before me?”

“As if you’re even surprised,” Faith said, snuggling up to her husband. “He’s right, though. No running inside to tell the rest of the family; that announcement is Ansel’s to make.” Peter grumbled but nodded.

“Mom will be happy to talk with you,” Derek told him. “She learned a lot when I came out.”

They walked inside, reporting to Derek’s dad what the crash had been. His father looked positively gleeful as he ran to get his toolbox to repair the swing. Derek went upstairs to change into clothes to work on the Jeep and then swung by the kitchen to grab water from the fridge. He’d just put his shoes back on when Boyd let himself into the house. 

“Ready?” Derek asked. 

Boyd shook his head. “Not if you were serious about that engine being held together by duct tape and prayers.” Derek laughed and led the way out to the Jeep.

Derek heard his mom’s car pull into the driveway. Moving quickly, he wiped off his hands and moved away from where he’d been bent over to look under the hood. He held his hands up when Stiles stalked across the yard towards him, leaving the door to Talia’s car open in his haste.

“What the hell are you doing to Roscoe?!” he screeched. His breathing was labored, and his eyes wide.

“Fixing him,” Derek said, trying to keep his voice soft. “Boyd used to be a mechanic, and he was able to get some parts from the garage where he worked.” Stiles looked at the sheet spread on the ground and covered with parts.

He dove for the pile of duct tape that had been removed, uncaring when his dress pants skidded on the wet grass. His fingers tugged and tangled the tape. “No. No. No,” he muttered, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Derek hurried to the side of the Jeep, pulling open the door, and grabbed the pieces of duct tape he’d attached to a piece of cardboard and put them on the front seat. Moving to Stiles, he knelt beside him and used his hand on Stiles’ chin to get him to look. “I noticed the writing on the older pieces of tape. This should be all of it.”

Stiles’ eyes raced over the card stock, his lips muttering the words that had been printed on each piece. Dates and random messages in a feminine hand. Derek started to say something, but Stiles tackled him to the ground, whispering ‘thank you’ over and over into his neck as tears flowed freely.

Derek made no move to dislodge Stiles. They stayed on the ground until the cold seeped through the tee-shirt he’d stripped down to while working on the car. Sniffling and rubbing at his eyes, Stiles sat up and took the cardboard from where Derek had managed to keep it from hitting the ground. He looked it over, blinking back more tears. 

Boyd called his name, and Stiles got to his feet to approach the Jeep. Looking under the hood, he followed Boyd’s pointing finger and gasped. At the bottom of the hood, closest to the windshield, a long piece of duct tape was affixed. “My Little Mischief,” it said in his mother’s writing, followed by “June 15, 1995”. 

“My birthday. Where did you find that? I’ve been over this Jeep a million times and never saw it,” Stiles said.

“I probably wouldn’t even have noticed it if I hadn’t gone underneath the Jeep,” Boyd explained. “It’s a miracle it’s not in worse shape, to be honest. Derek took some sealant to help hold it in place and protect it.”

“I tested it on a different piece of duct tape first,” Derek said before Stiles could say anything. He held up another piece of cardboard with a bit of duct tape that said, “Merry Christmas, Stiles.” He dropped it when Stiles launched himself into his arms again. This time he managed to keep his balance, and they stood in the driveway while Boyd returned his attention to the Jeep.

“Get a room,” Ansel called out as he came down the steps, hands full of mugs that smelled of chocolate and peppermint.

“Jealous,” Derek teased.

“Nah, he isn’t my type,” Ansel teased back, and Stiles looked offended.

Ansel passed around the mugs. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing up at Derek before looking at Stiles and Boyd. Smiling, Derek gave a nod and then moved to lean back against the Jeep. He nudged Boyd and jerked his chin in Ansel’s direction. 

“What’s up, kid?” Boyd asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“I’m pansexual,” he said, his voice wobbling slightly but the words clear.

“Congratulations,” Boyd responded and turned back to the Jeep.

Stiles’ grin grew, and he held up his free hand to get a high-five from Ansel. “First time coming out to non-family?” he asked.

“Yeah, you guys are making it easy.”

“Just remember, even the people that love you the most might say or do something stupid. My own dad told me I couldn’t be gay because of the way I dressed. He didn’t mean to be hurtful and apologized later when he realized I was serious,” Stiles explained. “And he’s the coolest dad on the planet, so even those that love us most can make mistakes.”

Ansel listened to Stiles with rapt attention as he shared more of his coming out stories. They went up to the porch and cautiously sat on the porch swing, letting out twin sighs of relief when it held. Derek moved back next to Boyd and helped him with the Jeep. “Do you think we’ll finish it today?”

“We’ll get it running,” Boyd told him. “I’d be happy to do all the work it needs for a case of beer and the price of parts. If you want to tell him.”

“I will,” Derek said. “You’re a good man, Vernon Boyd.” He laughed when Boyd waved a wrench in his face; he hated his given name with a burning passion.

Boyd went home a few hours later, loaded down with food from his mom and promises of multiple cases of beer from Stiles. Derek laughed when Stiles went out and started the Jeep, sitting in it while it ran, a broad smile on his face. “Gonna sleep out here?” he asked, leaning in the window when Stiles had been out there for half an hour.

“Thought about it,” Stiles said, grinning. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Derek should be inside helping his mom do some of the prep for Christmas Eve dinner or working on his book idea, but Stiles’ excitement was contagious. Shrugging, he walked around the Jeep and climbed into the passenger seat. Stiles took off before he’d managed to close the door.

They drove to the other end of town, Stiles sharing memories of the Jeep. It had been his mom’s, and before she’d passed away, she’d made his dad promise to hold onto it for Stiles. It was the best sixteenth birthday gift he could’ve gotten, but it had taken him a long time to get it up and running after years of sitting idle in the garage under a tarp. It had already been in rough shape because his mom didn’t trust mechanics. Stiles used to sit with her in the garage as she fixed it with duct tape, teaching him what to do when things went wrong.

He knew that duct tape wouldn’t last forever, but Stiles had thought taking Roscoe to a mechanic would be an insult to his mom’s memory. Derek apologized for overstepping, but Stiles waved it off as he pulled into the parking lot of a small craft mall in the next town over. “You preserved her memory and even found something I hadn’t known was there.”

Derek followed Stiles into the craft mall. He had no idea what they were doing there, but Stiles was on a mission, so he hurried his steps to keep up with him. Derek had never been to the mall before. He kept stopping to look at things on the cluttered shelves. He found a booth full of old woodworking books. He was flipping through one, wondering if he could get away with getting it for his father without breaking the “no presents from the kids” of his parents. 

Derek looked up and couldn’t find Stiles. His heart rate sped up for a second before he heard his voice from a few aisles over. Trying not to run, Derek sped towards him. He was standing at a booth with a rainbow flag at its back and a woman with black, curly hair. Stiles held up two items; one was a small flag in pink, yellow, and blue, the other was a scarf in the same colors.

“Picking something up for Ansel?” Derek asked as he joined them, smiling at the woman who gave a small wave.

“I was thinking about it. I get all my pride stuff from here. Vanessa makes everything by hand,” Stiles explained, waving a hand at the woman. “You want anything?” He gestured to a collection of items in the bisexual flag colors.

Derek wasn’t usually one to advertise his sexuality, but his attention was caught by a portfolio case in the colors. It was made of canvas and looked sturdy. “Can I see that?” he asked.

“Help yourself. This whole place is serve yourself; most of the time, I’m not even here,” she explained, pointing out the price tags and describing how the craft mall worked.

Derek took the case off the hook and unzipped it, looking inside and letting out a low whistle at the intricate pencil holder stitched inside and the two dividers. “This is amazing,” he told Vanessa. 

“It was a custom order, and the buyer flaked on me,” she said. “I can knock some off the price if it’s too much. I’m happy to have it go to a good home.”

He checked the price; usually, he would consider it a bit steep for a case, but it was handmade, and of excellent quality, so he wouldn’t complain. “No, it’s fine.”

Derek chatted with Vanessa for a few more minutes while Stiles decided on the scarf and a pansexual flag. He also got a shirt for Peter. It had a pansexual flag on it with the words “Proud of my Son” in the stripes. “Ansel told me how Peter outed him to you,” Stiles said. “I got the same shirt with the rainbow flag for my dad, and he loved it.”

“Peter will, too,” Derek agreed. “Why don’t we get one for Faith, as well. If you don’t mind me chipping in, we can give them all to them together. A family gift.”

When Vanessa realized that Ansel had just come out that day, she gladly threw in a few more small items. She also added a flyer for a few different LGBTQIA+ support groups for the surrounding towns. She even threw in a couple of her business cards. “I also sell on Etsy, in case you can’t get to the mall.”

They thanked her, and she walked with them through the rest of the mall, leaving when they reached the registers. Stiles gave her a hug goodbye, and Derek waved a hand as she left. They purchased their items and headed back to the Jeep, Stiles yawning loudly as he climbed behind the wheel.

“You going to be able to drive?” Derek asked, concerned.

“As long as we go straight back to the house. I’m going right to bed,” Stiles said around another yawn as he put the car into gear.

Derek tried to keep Stiles talking as they drove. It was more difficult than usual, and Derek was tense the entire drive until they pulled into the driveway and Stiles turned the Jeep off. He helped Stiles out of the Jeep, smiling when Stiles patted the hood and whispered, “Good night.”

He managed to get Stiles upstairs, unsurprised when he found Ansel sitting on the air mattress watching a movie on his laptop and texting on his phone. “Planning on staying in here tonight?” Derek teased.

“As long as you and Stiles don’t mind,” he answered, pausing the movie while Stiles stumbled and fell face-first into the bed. Derek was glad he was wearing sweatpants. He didn't think he’d be able to wrestle Stiles out of jeans, nor feel comfortable doing it while the boy was nearly comatose.

“Well, you know I’m a restless sleeper,” Derek said, grabbing his clothes to change.

“You’re not sleeping with Stiles?” Ansel asked, and Derek turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t he, like, your boyfriend?”

“No,” Derek said, chuckling. “He’s your Aunt Talia’s project.” Stiles flipped over suddenly in the bed and sat up, making his way out of the room. Derek and Ansel watched him go and exchanged a look before Derek headed out himself to get ready for bed.

When Derek returned to the room, Ansel was alone. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the air mattress, texting on his phone. Stiles had been exhausted, so it didn’t make sense for him not to be going to bed. Leaving the room, he wandered down the stairs in search of his temporary roommate. Passing the dining room, Derek heard talking and glanced in to see Stiles on his laptop. He looked miserable as he spoke, waving his arms around.

Derek wondered why the happiness and laughter that had filled Stiles all day had disappeared. Stepping into the kitchen and crossing to the fridge, he tried not to eavesdrop. Stiles' voice was mostly a low murmur, and Stiles must have his earbuds in because Derek couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation at all. Opening the fridge, he spotted one of the bottles of coquito and pulled it out. The rum would help him sleep, and he hoped it would break through whatever was bothering Stiles.

He poured two glasses and made his way into the dining room as Stiles let out a deep sigh, his entire body drooping in on itself. Tiptoeing, Derek set one of the glasses next to him, catching it when Stiles flailed and nearly knocked it off the table. Glancing at the screen, Derek spotted a guy around Stiles’ age with white-blonde hair and an arrogant sneer on his face. Derek raised his hand in a wave, and Stiles unplugged his earbuds.

“Derek, this is Jackson Whittemore, one of my best friends. Jackson, this is Derek,” Stiles said.

“Nice to meet you,” Derek said.

Jackson sniffed and arched one eyebrow before turning his attention back to Stiles. “I get it,” he said. “I’ll let you go. Have a good Christmas. Just let me know if I have to hop a flight to kick some ass.”

“Stop,” Stiles said, face flaming red as he glanced at Derek quickly. “Merry Christmas. Love you, Jackass!”

“Yeah...yeah..yeah,” Jackson replied before ending the call.

The room remained quiet in the absence of Jackson, who hadn’t said much anyway. Stiles sipped at his coquito but kept his eyes locked on his laptop. An image of the Beacon Hills lacrosse team filled the screen. Derek picked Stiles out quickly, his hair was buzzed, and his face rounder with youth but the eyes and grin were the same.

“Did you like playing lacrosse?”

Stiles snorted. “I liked riding the bench. I don’t even think Coach actually knew my name. Always called me Bilinski.” After another sip, he smiled. “I was MVP of one game, though.”

“That’s awesome.” Derek settled into the seat next to Stiles. “Tell me all the details.”

Stiles looked at him suspiciously but started talking, his words stilted at first until he got lost in the story. He added sound effects, and the gestures of his hands really helped sell the story. Derek could see why Stiles was such a fantastic kindergarten teacher. He followed the story as best as he could, relieved that Stiles seemed to be enjoying himself again. 

Fatigue was definitely catching up with the both of them, and when Derek emptied his glass, he stood. “I’m heading up to bed. Ansel is probably already passed out on the air mattress.” He hesitated. “Are you coming?”

Stiles frowned. “I think I should just go home.”

“What? Why?” Derek reached out and pulled him back when he moved towards the front door. “You’re supposed to spend Christmas with us. My family went totally overboard this year to give you a good Christmas.” He gestured to the pine garland that lined the archway into the dining room. 

Stiles stopped. “This isn’t normal?” 

Derek snorted. “Nothing is normal this year. Trees. We have  _ a _ tree. We go to a couple of things at the Christmas festival. We’ve never done lights or any of these other decorations.” He pointed harshly at the garland again. “I don’t even know what that is!”

Stiles glanced up, and his face flushed. “Something to avoid around your family,” he said and stepped quickly out of the archway. Derek chased after him. “So, your family doesn't do this for all of your ‘mother’s projects’?” he asked, his voice sarcastic and fingers slashing air quotes between them.

“Did you want Ansel to think you were my boyfriend?” Derek asked, wondering if there was something he was missing. He tilted his head and studied Stiles as he considered the words again. 

Stiles sputtered a few times before recognizable words spit out between his lips. “What? No! But I thought we were at least becoming friends! Not just a burden you’re putting up with because your mother felt sorry for me!”

“Excuse me, young man,” Talia said, coming down the stairs, tightening the belt of her robe. “I did not insist on you coming to stay with us because of any sense of pity.” Her words were sharp, and Derek winced in sympathy as Stiles’ eyes widened. “Although I don’t like the idea of anyone spending Christmas alone, I invited you to stay with us because I remember a sad little boy. A little boy who came running through our woods, getting lost until someone came to pick him up.”

“What?” Stiles' bewildered look mirrored what Derek was feeling.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Talia asked softly, sitting on the second-to-last step, patting it until Stiles sat beside her. She glanced pointedly at Derek, who sat on the bottom step next to her feet. “It was just after your mother passed away.” She ran a hand over Stiles’ head, and Derek had to fight the smile when Stiles leaned his head on her shoulder. “Every couple of weeks, I would hear a noise in the woods. It was a sad little boy who missed his mother.”

“Me?” Stiles asked. Derek could tell he was trying to remember; he knew enough from the few psychology courses he’d taken in college that grief could cloud memories. “I don’t remember that.”

“It was only a handful of times until your father started keeping a closer eye on you.” She spoke carefully like the word choice was important.

“You mean when he stopped drinking himself stupid every night,” Stiles replied, his voice matter-of-fact when Derek would’ve expected bitterness.

Talia’s smile softened. “I would bring you into the house, and you would curl up on the couch with my kids, watching whatever movies they were until your father, or Melissa, would come to pick you up.”

“My little Mischief,” Derek said, smiling. “I thought I’d made you up. Laura used to tell us you were a child of the fae.”

“Of course she did,” Talia said with a smile. “I assure you that he was very real and little Mischief grew up to be our very own Stiles. So, this might be the first Christmas you’ve spent with us, but it’s definitely not the first time you’ve been a part of our family.”

Stiles smiled and pulled Talia into a hug. He still wouldn’t look at Derek, but he headed back upstairs instead of out the front door, so Derek counted it as a win. Once he was gone, Talia turned her attention on Derek. He winced at the frown on her face. He opened his mouth and shut it again when she gently cuffed him on the back of the head. 

“Didn’t I raise you to have better manners?”

“I didn’t mean to upset him!” Derek argued. “I was just correcting Ansel’s misconception that Stiles was my boyfriend.”

“You couldn’t just have said he was your friend?” she asked, her voice soft. Derek dropped his face into his hands. “I know you’ve only been spending time together for a couple of days, but you seem to get along. Ask yourself why you were so adamant that he stayed.”

“You would’ve been upset if he left.” Derek ducked when she raised her hand again, but she just ran it over the top of his head before pressing a kiss to it.

“Just think about it,” she said as she stood. “Now, get some sleep. Busy, busy day tomorrow.”

Derek stayed where he was for a long time. His mind whirled. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he found some memories of Stiles as a child. Something occurred to him, and he twisted his lips together. Heading upstairs, he passed the open door of his bedroom and saw that Stiles was sitting up in the bed with his laptop. Ansel was still snoring in the middle of the air mattress. 

Derek climbed up to the attic, bypassing the stuff he’d brought with him and approaching a large stack of boxes near the back wall. Each of the boxes had a name on it. Derek quickly found the one with his and arranged the boxes so he could open it. Digging through, he found what he’d been searching for, a journal from when he’d been in elementary school. It had been a gift from his grandmother. She’d always said memories were essential, and that had meant more to him when she started to lose hers. 

Flipping through the pages, he noticed that he only wrote once in a while. There was no rhyme or reason. Usually, he wrote when something happened that he was afraid he would forget. He stopped when the word “Mischief” caught his eye.

_ Mischief came over again today. He was crying and wouldn’t stop. I just wanted to watch Small Soldiers and he wouldn’t stop! I gave him Wolfy and it made him smile. He still cried but at least he was quiet. Then when he left, he took Wolfy! I asked mom to get it back but Laura said fae didn’t return gifts. I’ll just ask him when he shows up again. _

He’d never shown up again. His sudden disappearance made the story of him being fae even more believable to Derek. He flipped the page and found a drawing. It was rough and drawn well before Derek had developed any sense of personal style, but it was clearly a young Stiles hugging a stuffed black wolf to his chest. “He stole my toy,” Derek muttered, remembering wrestling for the stuffed black wolf the other morning. Derek wondered if it was still the same one. Thinking of the roughness of the fur, he suspected that it was.

Instead of the childish anger, he’d felt when the toy had been stolen, he only felt fondness. He needed to know if Stiles even remembered where the wolf came from, especially if he didn’t remember being at the Hale House before this week. If he genuinely didn’t remember being there, he wondered what made him keep the wolf for all these years. He had been embarrassed when Derek had found the wolf, but he clearly slept with it even at his age.

Smiling, Derek decided it was time for bed. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there was a lot to be done around the house, and he had to pick up Stiles’ gift. The most important thing he had to do was convince Stiles that he was wanted there for Christmas, not just by his mother but by Derek himself.

Stiles was sleeping when Derek had changed into his pajamas. Checking, Derek saw the wolf’s nose sticking out from under the covers near Stiles’ chin. He thought about stealing it back for a moment, but when he reached for it, Stiles rubbed his face into the fur with a snort. Derek wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching him when Ansel let out a snort.

“You’re such a creeper, Derek,” he muttered. “Get some sleep. You know that Auntie Talia will have us up at daybreak to start the scavenger hunt.”

Chuckling, Derek climbed onto the air mattress next to Ansel and closed his eyes. Sleep found him far quicker than he’d expected, and the next thing he knew, he was being dragged off the air mattress by his ankle. A chorus of laughter filled his ears, and he sat up with a jolt as his tailbone hit the wooden floor.

“Fuck!” he shouted, ducking just in time to avoid his mother tweaking his nose with a hissed, “Language.”

The kitchen was full of people when Derek got downstairs. Stiles was pouring coffee into to-go mugs, lining the cups up on the counter while Laura was setting out envelopes with lists. Derek’s father was laying out a city map on the table and affixing stars that matched the envelopes’ colors to different locations. Cora was sitting at the island with her head buried in her crossed arms, snoring softly, while Ansel was trying to balance Cheerios in her hair.

It was chaos, and Derek loved it. He glanced around at everyone gathered and tried to figure out who the teams were going to be. Ansel was finally old enough to be on a team officially instead of a tagalong with his parents if he wanted. Derek figured he would like to pair up with him, and the married couples always teamed up, so that meant Stiles would be with Cora for the day. Frowning, Derek reached over and pulled Ansel out of the kitchen just as Cora woke up and started screeching at him.

“How much will you hate me if I don’t want to team up with you?” Derek asked.

“Who says I want to team up with you?” Ansel retorted with a laugh. “Cora has been on the winning team for the last five years.”

“Yeah, with me,” Derek said, laughing. “She’s nothing without me.”

“Sorry, you’re stuck with me,” Stiles said, appearing with two of the to-go cups in his hands. He handed one to Derek and sipped from the other. “They decided teams while you were getting dressed.” His voice was cold, and Derek fought a frown, forcing a smile that came across as a grimace based on Stiles’ flinch.

“Sorry? I think I lucked out,” Derek said. “Between your brains and my experience, we’re the team to beat!”

Ansel snorted and muttered something under his breath that had Cora laughing as she came to grab him and drag him outside to the waiting vehicles. “We better get moving,” Stiles said, waving a blue envelope.

“Shit, we got blue?” Derek said.

“Is that bad?” Stiles asked, fingers running over the sealed flap.

“It’s the furthest starting point,” he explained. “You were the last one to choose, weren’t you?”

“Actually, I was first,” he said, looking sheepish. “Blue is just pretty, don’t you think?”

Derek laughed and reached for the envelope. “Yes, Stiles, blue is just pretty.” They walked to the door, and Derek reached for his keys. “Unless you want to drive?”

“As much as I love Roscoe, I have a feeling we’re going to need reliable transportation today.”

“Let’s go, then. We only have,” Derek checked his phone, “half an hour to get to our starting point.” 

Derek drove as quickly as he could without risking getting pulled over. Despite Stiles’ assurances that he could convince his father to get him out of any tickets, he wasn’t taking any chances. They arrived at the starting point, a diner right on the edge of town. “We can’t get any further out without leaving Beacon Hills,” Derek muttered just as the five-minute-warning alarm went out through the group chat for the scavenger hunt.

“Hurry up!” Derek cried, scrambling out of the car. He sent their location to his mother, who would be tracking all of them through the hunt. “We need a photo!” He dragged Stiles in next to him. Holding his free arm out, he snapped a picture of them in front of the diner’s sign.

Once he’d sent off the photo, Derek took a sip of his coffee. He debated running into the diner for a to-go breakfast when the starting alarm sounded from his phone. Tossing aside the bag of granola bars his mother had sent with them, he tore into the envelope.

“How serious is this scavenger hunt?” Stiles asked as Derek pulled out a slip of paper with writing on it.

“First dibs on food at dinner and bragging rights for a year,” Derek said. He furrowed his brow as he read over the words for the clue. “Raise a crosse and give a cheer. One of you spent a lot of time here.”

Stiles looked thoughtful. “How is cross spelled?” he asked, moving in close to Derek and reading over his shoulder. Derek shuddered at his warm breath on his cool skin. He pulled his leather jacket closer to himself. “I know exactly where we are going.”

Derek tossed him the keys. “You drive.” 

The scavenger hunt took them from the high school’s lacrosse field to Erica and Boyd’s ice cream parlor, which was still closed. Still, their friends were waiting with hot chocolate and Belgian waffles. After that, they ended up at the library just as it opened, looking through the reference section for a recipe for waffles. The hunt continued taking them from one end of town to the other. They crossed paths with other members of the family a few times.

“So, your parents arrange this every year?” Stiles asked.

“My grandparents did it before them,” Derek explained. “It’s been tradition for as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a lot of fun, but it has to be a lot of work,” Stiles commented. “Does every team have a different path?”

“We all visit the same places but in a different order. In the end, we all wind up at the same location and have lunch together before heading back to the house,” Derek explained as they pulled up in front of the post office.

Once they were done taking photos of themselves mailing postcards to family on the other side of the country, they received the last clue. “The final clue for you this year is with those you hold dear. Leave a gift for those who are gone but not forgotten. Just avoid stepping in a coffin.”

“Your mother is morbid,” Stiles said. “Just want to point that out before we go to the cemetery.” 

“We have to make one more stop before that,” Derek said, taking his keys back and sliding in behind the wheel. “It said we need to leave a gift.”

“So, we pick a couple of pebbles from the grounds and lay them on the stones,” Stiles says with a shrug.

“I think it means flowers. Why would we leave pebbles?” Derek asked, trying not to sound judgmental in his confusion.

Stiles frowned. Derek wanted to take back every word, but Stiles started talking before he could. “There are a few theories ranging from the stones keeping the souls in the grave to stones being more permanent than flowers. I don’t know why other people do it, but I do it because it’s what my mom did.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “She made me promise to leave stones on her grave.”

“That’s a big promise for a child to make,” Derek whispered. “And you think my mom is morbid.” He bit his tongue when Stiles turned to look at him with wide eyes. He took a breath to apologize when Stiles let out a snort.

Soon, they were both laughing. Derek startled when Stiles laid a hand on his arm, holding on as he bent forward, gasping for breath. “I walked right into that one,” he finally managed to say.

“My family does grave blankets to keep our departed loved ones warm in the winter, but we haven’t done it for many years.” He frowned. “Mom probably decided it was time to start again since we lost Nana in March.”

“And you thought the stones were weird,” Stiles quipped, but he squeezed Derek’s arm. “Sorry about your Nana.”

“Thanks.”

Derek pulled up to the tree farm down the road from the cemetery. A large display of grave blankets stood outside the building. It didn’t look like any were missing, so they might have still been in the lead for the scavenger hunt. Moving quickly, Derek chose one with fluffy pine boughs, poinsettias, and pine cones. The red-ribbon bow had long tails. It reminded him of the wreath that Nana would hang on her door every year.

“Definitely the best looking one,” Stiles said as they worked together to tie it to the top of the car. “I always thought these were lawn decorations when I was a kid.” Derek chuckled at the image of grave blankets lining a lawn. “Glad my dad never gave in and got one.”

The only people at the cemetery were Derek’s parents, and Stiles let out a loud cheer as he scrambled out of the car. “We won!!!!” 

Derek’s father’s laughter rang out, and Talia shook her head. “Trying to wake the dead?” she teased, laughing when Stiles nodded enthusiastically. “Since you’re first, why don’t you choose who gets your blanket.”

“Me?” Stiles asked, pointing to himself and staring at Derek where he stood holding the blanket. “But I’m not a Hale.”

“You have family here,” Talia said, reaching out and cupping his cheek.

Derek was disappointed; he’d really wanted to put the blanket on Nana’s grave, but he wouldn’t take the choice away from Stiles once his mother had given it to him. He glanced around the cemetery; the Hale plot was at the top of a small hill allowing a good view of the entire grounds. He wondered where Stiles’ mom was buried and if he’d have to carry the blanket very far.

“Derek’s Nana,” Stiles said after a few moments, his voice decisive. “Where is she?”

“Are you sure?” Derek asked as he headed to the newest gravestone. “I mean...your mom.” Stiles smiled at him. “The scavenger hunt is for your family.”

“This holiday, you’re family,” Derek said, kneeling to push the stakes into the ground, glad it wasn’t too frozen to make it difficult. When he was done, he stood up and grinned at his mom, who was greeting Laura and Oliver as they pulled into the cemetery.

Rising, Derek brushed off his knees and started heading down the hill in a random direction. He stopped near the edge of the road that ran through the cemetery and squatted down, gathering a few stones. Standing and bouncing them in his hand, he smiled at Stiles, who had come to stand next to him. “Where’s your mom?”

Derek startled when Stiles reached out, wrapping his chilled fingers around Derek’s wrist. He tugged him towards the right, and even when Derek fell into step next to him, Stiles didn’t let go. It was a bit awkward because they were the same height, but Derek didn’t want to say anything that might wipe the quiet grin off Stiles’ face.

He heard his sister call for him. He ignored her to continue walking with Stiles. A couple of squirrels ran across the grounds, chasing each other among the headstones through the trees. Derek elbowed Stiles, pointing out the animals and smiling when Stiles laughed. They stopped walking a few moments later.

The stone was small and simple; one made for couples with just the one side completely filled out. “Mom, meet Derek. Derek, meet mom,” Stiles said, moving to sit cross-legged in front of the stone. 

Settling into a crouch next to Stiles, Derek held out his handful of stones. Working quietly together, they placed them along the edge of the grave marker. Their stones joined a few that were already there. Stiles brushed out the engraved lettering, tracing them with his fingers. His lips moved silently, and Derek wondered if he was praying or talking to his mom.

“I used to sit out here for hours.” Stiles’ voice broke the silence between them, startling Derek out of his thoughts. “Once I got my drivers’ license and my dad was working nights, I would sneak through a break in the fence. Sometimes, Scott would come with me, but he always got scared.” Stiles snorted. “I don’t come to see her often anymore.”

Derek knew he’d been there the day before, had said he comes every year. He wondered how often other than that Stiles visited. Slowly, he laid his hand over Stiles’. “I’m sure she understands.” 

Stiles’ lips twitched slightly as he turned his hand over and wrapped their fingers together, squeezing Derek’s hand gently. “Thank you.” Using his free hand, he wiped at the tears on his face. “We should go back.” 

Derek settled more fully onto the ground next to Stiles, squeezing his hand. “When you’re ready.”

The rest of the family had arrived by the time Stiles and Derek made their way back to the Hale Family plot. Stiles leaned against Derek. He was still a bit emotionally spent from visiting his mom’s grave and exhausted from not enough sleep the night before. About halfway through the lunch, Stiles was asleep on the blanket where he sat with Derek, Cora, and Ansel.

“Awwww,” Cora cooed, and Derek threw a piece of bread at her. 

“No food fights in the cemetery,” Talia called out.

“Our family is so weird,” Ansel muttered as he picked up the piece of bread and shoved it into the garbage bag that had been set up near the cars.

Derek glanced at his watch, jumping to his feet. “Shit, I have to go,” he said, gathering his garbage and adding it to the bag. Stiles made a disgruntled sound as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “Cora, can you and Ansel take Stiles back to the house?”

“Trying to ditch me already?” Stiles asked. Derek whipped his head around at the hurt resonating in Stiles’ voice. His eyes met Stiles’. “I get it.”

“No!” Derek shouted, drawing everyone’s attention. “No, you can come with me, but you can’t come inside the shop with me.”

Stiles began scrambling a bit; his coordination was still hindered by sleep. “Are you going to the mall?”

“Town, actually,” Derek said. “I have to stop at the framing store to pick something up.”

“And I can’t come in? Did you get me a present, Derek?” Stiles teased as he helped Ansel fold up the blanket.

“Shut up,” Derek said, his voice more fond than angry as he put a hand over Stiles’ face and gently shoved him away. “Do you want to come or not?”

Stiles nodded. “I can run to a couple of places while you’re in there. I have to pick up a couple of things, myself.”

Hugs and kisses went around the group even though they would be meeting up again at the house. They all pretty much lived in each other’s pockets until the day after Christmas. When they finally got into the car, Derek pressed down the accelerator before Stiles was even wholly buckled. 

Stiles disappeared as soon as they were out of the car. Derek wasn’t sure what direction he’d gone. Ducking into the shop, he was greeted with a wide smile. Tension melted from his shoulders as he returned the greeting. “I was hoping I didn’t keep you waiting,” Derek called as he approached.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Walker said as he lifted the finished item from behind the counter and set it on the counter for Derek to inspect. “We’re still open for at least an hour. Plus, I was hoping you might do something for me.”

Derek’s eyes were locked onto the intricate driftwood frame surrounding his drawing as he agreed to whatever Mr. Walker wanted from him. The pieces appeared woven together, and when he ran his finger over the branches, he discovered they were real. “This is amazing,” he breathed out. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” the man said as he took it back and pointed to a couple of spots. “You can easily thread LED lights through the branches if you’d like it to light up.” 

“I’m going to ne-” He cut off when the man set a small box of 50 LED lights on the counter with a wink. “You’re magical.”

“So, I’ve been told,” he teased as he took the frame to a large table in the back and began wrapping it first in bubble wrap and then plain brown paper. 

When he was done, he handed the package over to Derek before reaching below the counter and withdrawing a copy of  _ Ansel Answers the Call _ . “How did…?” His eyes drifted to the package, and he laughed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

“No one will hear a word from me,” Mr. Walker assured. “My grandson is a huge fan. My son, too. It’s why my grandson’s name is Ansel.”

Derek’s laughter was loud, nearly drowning out the sound of the bells over the door. He leaned over the book and signed it quickly. “My cousin is named after the book, as well,” he whispered. 

Mr. Walker had just put the book back under the counter when Stiles’ called out from near the door. “Are you ready? Can I peek?”

Laughing, Derek made his farewells and then took the package under his arm. Heading to the door, he nearly dropped the drawing when he saw Stiles standing by the door with both hands over his eyes. “You’re the worst,” Derek said, grabbing one of Stiles’ wrists and dragging him out of the store.

As soon as they were clear of the door, Stiles started poking at the package. “What is it?”

“Nonya,” Derek replied, sliding it into the backseat, debating if buckling the seatbelt around it would do more harm than good.

“Nonya business,” Stiles echoed back, unamused as he rolled his eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that before.” He took the box of LED lights from Derek and climbed inside. “We don’t have lights?” he asked as he settled his own bags next to his feet. 

“What’s in the bags?” Derek asked instead of answering. Stiles’ lips twisted into a smirk. “Nonya. Got it.”

They teased each other on the drive back to Derek’s house, groaning when they got there to find Derek’s dad and Peter standing on the lawn and staring up at the house. Half of the lights strung along the eave of the awning over the porch twinkled merrily in the twilight sky. The other half was completely dark. 

“Problem?” Derek asked as they got out. He and Stiles both left their purchases inside the car.

“Lights are burned out,” Peter said, gesturing to the roof.

“Yes, they are,” Stiles affirmed, nudging Derek when he laughed. The four of them stood in silence for several moments. “Are we hoping that if we stand here long enough that they will magically turn back on?”

“Yep,” Derek’s dad said, pressing his lips together as his eyes sparkled.

Rolling his eyes, Derek approached the ladder leaning against the house and started climbing. He pulled himself up over the gutter and onto the roof, falling backward when Stiles appeared at the top of the ladder behind him. “Need help?”

“Just might,” Derek admitted as he held up a section of wire that was frayed. “I think a squirrel got hungry.”

Stiles frowned. “Poor, little guy.” He looked around. “I don’t see any mini-corpses, so hopefully, he got away.”

“Perhaps we should put your dad on the case to catch the little vandal,” Derek suggested, reaching out to help Stiles up over the gutter and onto the roof beside him.

“Nah, he doesn’t have handcuffs small enough.”

“Dad, do you have any electrical tape down there?” He studied the string of lights again, and it came apart in his hand. “Or another string? I think this one is done.”

His father shouted an affirmative and headed into the house, leaving Peter outside, staring up at them. Working together, Stiles and Derek removed the damaged string of lights, twisting the two pieces into a stack next to them. A few more minutes passed, and Derek’s dad still hadn’t returned.

“Hey, Uncle Peter!” Derek called. “Can you see what’s going on with dad? He should’ve been back out by now.”

Peter nodded, smirking as he headed into the house. Just as he disappeared from sight underneath the eave, the ladder trembled. Derek gaped as it moved in slow motion away from the roof and fell to the ground with a quiet thud. 

“Did that just happen?” Stiles asked, crawling to the edge and looking over.

“We are officially in a bad movie,” Derek muttered. He reached into his pocket for his phone only to discover it was in his jacket that he’d left in the car.

“Bad?” Stiles squawked. “This is a twist on the classic trope of being locked into a room together!” He smacked his hands together, laughing.

“You know what happens to the two locked in the room together, don’t you?” Derek pointed out. He moved closer to the side of the house, eyes on the windows. One led to the bathroom on the second floor, and the other to the guest room that used to be Laura’s when she’d lived at home. An idea occurred to him.

“They fall in love!” Stiles said, freezing and looking towards the edge. “I might be able to drop over if you help…” He trailed off when Derek let out a curse. “What are you doing?”

“Laura used to sneak out all the time. She kept breaking the latch on her window if it ever got fixed. I guess when she moved out, Dad finally fixed it for good,” Derek explained, still studying the window. “You don’t have your phone, do you?”

Stiles pulled it out. “Dead. I really need a new one, this one doesn’t hold a charge for very long, but every time I think about getting a new one, another expense requires the money I’d set aside for the phone. Adulting sucks.”

“Agreed,” Derek said, sliding to the edge and looking over just as his father stepped off the porch and tripped over the ladder lying on the ground. “Dad!”

“Nothing hurt but my pride,” his dad answered, getting up and brushing himself off. “Why’s the ladder on the ground?”

“I don’t want to put the blame on Peter, but it was totally Peter,” Stiles called, moving to kneel next to Derek.

“Did I hear my name?” Peter stepped onto the lawn and grinned up at them. “Well, you’re both alive, so have you fallen in love yet?”

“Uncle, we don’t live in a movie,” Derek argued. “Now, put the ladder back and give us the lights so we can come inside for dinner.”

“Birthday dinner,” Stiles said, and Derek groaned.

“Don’t remind me.” 

It took them close to a half an hour to get the lights in place, especially when they’d done it the first time with the plug at the wrong end. Stiles grinned the entire time. “Are you having fun with this?” Derek asked.

“I’ve never gotten to decorate a house before,” he admitted. “The house was so pretty when we got home yesterday. I was sad I’d missed out on it.” He picked up the broken strand and climbed down the ladder. “I should leave out some nuts for the squirrel that allowed this to happen.”

A small smile crossed Peter’s face as he reached the ground. Derek raised an eyebrow at him, glowering when his uncle just winked at him and took the lights from Stiles and headed into the house. Glancing over at his dad, he raised his eyebrows at him, and he shrugged in response. Grabbing the ladder, he disappeared around the side of the house while Derek and Stiles went to get their things from the car. 

Derek was able to get Stiles’ gift up into the attic. He would just give Stiles the lights to do himself if he felt like it, but he wanted to provide him with the full effect. While Derek was unwrapping it and hiding it behind some boxes, he found one that held copies of all of his books. He always suspected his family bought multiple copies to boost sales, and now he had proof and another idea.

“Whatcha doing up here?” Stiles called, and Derek stepped out from behind the boxes to find him standing on the stairs. “Is it safe to come up, or will I interrupt super-secret spy time?”

Derek glanced at the drafting table, but nothing incriminating was out in the open. “Come on up. I was just going through some boxes.” He moved the boxes around a bit to completely hide the drawing. “Tell me about your classroom.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, settling into Derek’s chair and spinning on it until Derek reached out to stop him. 

“Really. I’ve never known a teacher outside of the ones I had in school, so I’m curious about your side of the story,” Derek explained, settling on the edge of the mattress.

Stiles’ smile brightened up the room, his eagerness, and excitement almost palatable in the air surrounding him. Derek had to focus on what he was saying, or he would’ve just watched his arms moving around and learned nothing. “I have a huge in-class library. Even Ms. Blake, the school librarian, is jealous. She says I have the largest collection of children’s books she’s ever seen.”

“How did that happen? Did you always collect them?” Derek asked. “I know when I was a kid, I never got rid of anything. When I moved out, my mom had a huge garage sale. I think she sold about fifteen boxes of books from when I was a kid.”

“It was actually sixteen,” Stiles replied, grinning. “And you just answered your own question.”

“Seriously?” Derek laughed.

“She gave me an excellent deal, and I was getting ready to go away to school and start working towards my teaching degree. She let me keep them here until I graduated and got my own classroom. It’s actually how I discovered Garrett Roue’s books. There was at least one copy of each that was released by that point. I was surprised since they were so much newer than the others. I suspect your mom threw them in as a bonus gift.” Stiles ran a hand over his hair and let out a soft sound. “I’m beginning to realize you and your family have been a bigger part of my life than I realized.”

“We have that effect on people,” Derek teased as Talia’s voice carried upstairs, calling them down to dinner. Derek groaned. 

“You really don’t like to celebrate your birthday, do you?” Stiles asked his voice void of the teasing that Derek expected.

Studying his face, Derek debated answering the question. As soon as he went down those steps, he’d plaster a smile on his face and never let his family know he was anything but thrilled to celebrate his birthday. “As you can see, Christmas has always been a big deal for my family. We prepare and celebrate and do a million things together in the spirit of the season.” He glanced out the window, noticing the glow of the lights strung up around the house. “This year has been even bigger and better.”

“But?” Stiles asked when Derek was silent for too long.

“But, celebrating my birthday on Christmas Eve feels like an interruption. I feel like I’m being forced to take away from the family aspect of the holiday to focus on me,” Derek said. He’d never spoken his feelings about his birthday aloud before, so his words were quiet and stilted.

Stiles was quiet, and Derek thought maybe he’d actually left. He looked up and found Stiles looking thoughtful, his brows drawn together and a frown on his lips. Derek opened his mouth to make a joke and break the tension, but Stiles rose from the chair and came to sit next to him. He laid a hand over Derek’s, much as he’d done to Stiles at the cemetery.

“Your family  _ celebrates _ Christmas, so celebrating your birthday is definitely not an interruption. The holidays are about being together, and that’s what they want to do, be together with you to celebrate the day you were born.” He reached out and tilted Derek’s chin up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have a right to feel the way that you do. Sometimes being the center of attention sucks, but don’t ever think you don’t deserve it. Your family loves you, and I’ve learned they love hard. So, just enjoy it while you still have a family to enjoy it with.”

Derek nodded, blinking back tears. He twisted his hand around to squeeze Stiles’ hand in gratitude. Words were escaping him, so he just nodded and squeezed again. Talia’s voice, filled with a bit more impatience, carried upstairs, and they scrambled to their feet and hurried down the stairs.

When they entered the dining room, Derek found that his smile wasn’t as forced as it had been in previous years. His confusion was real when Cora and Ansel both shrieked for him and Stiles to freeze. “Look up!” Ansel shouted.

Ice lanced through Derek’s heart as he and Stiles glanced up in unison to discover a large ball of mistletoe hanging above them in the entryway. “Seriously?” Derek asked. He glared at Peter, strongly suspicious his uncle was behind the new decoration. “I thought we banned mistletoe after we found out it was poisonous to dogs.” That had been a bad Christmas, spent in an emergency veterinary hospital with their beloved Duke. Thankfully, he’d survived, but he’d never been the same, and the decoration had been banned from the house.

“It’s fake,” Peter assured.

“Then we can fake a kiss,” Stiles said, distracting Derek from the glaring contest with his uncle. “C’mon, big guy.” He reached over and wrapped a hand around Derek’s head, pulling him sideways to press a kiss to the top of his head with a definitive smacking sound.

“Foul!” Ansel called. “Christmas foul!”

“That sounds like a bad thing,” Stiles whispered to Derek, who pulled himself out of Stiles’ grasp. 

“It is,” Derek said, frowning. “Do you mind if I kiss you?” he whispered, quietly enough that only Stiles would hear him. He knew they would never get to dinner if they didn’t do this right.

“Not if you don’t,” Stiles whispered back, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

Derek thought about it and found he really didn’t mind. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips gently against Stiles’. It was barely a kiss, and Derek could hear Ansel ready to call out foul again, so he brushed them again with a little more pressure. He bit back a sound when he felt Stiles’ tongue just barely wet his lips and had to pull back before he did something stupid like bite Stiles’ lip. Instead, he lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away the moisture there, never breaking eye contact with Stiles.

“Now, that was a kiss!” Cora shouted, breaking the tension between them when they both burst into laughter.

“Stop harassing your brother and let’s eat,” Talia called, and Derek glanced at Stiles. He frowned when Stiles focused on the table and wouldn’t look back. The zing of pleasure from the kiss melted away into a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The forced smile was back as he sat down and complimented the homemade enchiladas passed to him. He poked at the plate, his appetite gone. He was getting ready to excuse himself when he felt pressure on his foot. Looking down, he saw Stiles’ foot tapping the top of his. Glancing across the table, his eyes met Stiles’. He smiled at Derek and pursed his lips in the mockery of a kiss, lightening the feeling of dread.

Grinning at his plate, Derek scooped up a forkful of enchilada and ate with enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he would take Stiles’ advice earlier and just enjoy it.

As soon as dinner was over, his mom carried out a small birthday cake with only a couple of candles on top. The tips of Derek’s ears burned as they all sang  _ Happy Birthday _ to him, the pressure of Stiles’ foot on his the only thing keeping him from ducking under the table to hide. After the cake was served, the presents started. 

His gifts mostly consisted of money because he knew everyone would have put all their thought into Christmas gifts. Still, one wrapped present was handed to him along with the stack of cards. “I didn’t know you didn’t do birthday presents,” Stiles admitted, looking embarrassed.

“No, this is great,” Derek responded, tearing carefully at the paper. He bit back a bark of laughter when his eyes fell onto the title of the book. “ _ How to be a Spy.  _ Really?”

“I figured you might need the help,” Stiles teased while his family looked on in confusion. Talia’s smile was fond when Derek and Stiles bantered back and forth. 

The conversation around the table went on for several minutes until Talia cleared her throat. “Not that I would ever want to cut this celebration short, but I have a suggestion for a possible new tradition for us.” 

“What?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Christmas caroling. The choir teacher from the high school is gathering anyone who wants to go at City Hall before heading out. There will be hot chocolate and cookies afterward,” she explained.

“You had me at cookies,” Ansel said, standing up. 

“I love to sing,” Stiles added. “No one likes to hear it, but I love to do it.” Derek chuckled and followed Stiles out of the room, making sure to put enough distance between themselves to avoid another mistletoe incident.

Caroling was an adventure. Stiles’ voice wasn’t unpleasant, just horribly out of tune. Derek didn’t like singing in public, so he kept his voice low despite the numerous elbows he got to his stomach from Stiles. Derek wasn’t surprised that he stuck so closely to his side when they were caroling despite having been greeted by numerous friends when they arrived. 

Derek got to meet the infamous Scott, smiling despite himself at the puppy-like quality the younger man had as he bounced around Stiles. If he’d had a tail, it would have been whipping the air around them in a frenzy. He was there with his wife, a pleasant girl named Kira, who smiled softly at Derek when they were introduced; he liked her immediately.

“I’m surprised you aren’t spending the holiday with them,” Derek commented as the couple walked away to pick up hot chocolate and cookies for all of them.

“They are spending it with Kira’s family. Her dad was my high school history teacher and isn’t my biggest fan,” Stiles said, looking anything but sorry about that revelation. “It’s easier for him to deal with me in small doses.”

“I have a feeling there’s a story there,” Derek said with a smile. 

Stiles laughed. “Many, many stories. Let me tell you about the first-”

He was cut off by Ansel coming up to tell them it was time to head back to the house for storytime. “Can I ride home with you?”

“C’mon, kid,” Derek said, wrapping an arm around his cousin’s neck and pulled him along to the parking lot.

Stiles hurried along behind them, still singing to himself, and Derek found himself smiling and joining in. He wasn’t the only one; just about every person they passed would begin singing along, and soon the parking lot was filled with joyful voices. Stiles’ laughter filled the car when they shut the doors, and Ansel leaned over the seat to punch Stiles in the shoulder.

“You’re pretty cool,” he said. “Can we keep you?”

“After this amazing Christmas, you Hales aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon,” Stiles responded, looking at Derek out of the corner of his eyes. His fingers danced along the console between the seats.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Derek reached over and stilled Stiles’ hands. “Good,” he whispered, pressing his lips together to hide a grin when Stiles dug his teeth into his lower lip.

“What’s storytime?” Stiles asked when they were about halfway back to the house.

“It’s awesome!” Ansel answered, pounding his fists on the seat next to him. “We each choose our favorite childhood stories, and Derek reads them aloud.”

“Derek does?” Stiles asked, squeezing Derek’s hand, reminding him that he hadn’t let go. He frowned. “I don’t have my favorite here.”

“Isn’t it  _ Ansel Answers the Call _ ?” Derek asked, and Stiles nodded. “That’s Ansel’s favorite, too. So, you’re covered.”

“You should pick another one!” Ansel spoke up. “I’ve got a bunch of D-” Derek coughed loudly. “Garrett Roue’s books.”

“Do you have  _ Dorian, The Last City _ ?” Stiles asked. 

Derek nearly swerved off the road and muttered something about black ice when Stiles looked at him in concern.  _ Dorian _ was his least well-known book; it was still a children’s book, but it wasn’t the typical happy story popular with parents that loved his books. He’d written it after a fire had destroyed part of the Preserve where he lived, and the moral was to always take care of where you live because nothing lasts forever.

“I don’t have it with me,” Ansel responded, frowning. “Sorry.”

Derek cleared his throat. “There’s a copy at the house. Are you...are you sure that’s one you want to read for storytime?”

“Why not? It’s my second favorite of Garrett’s books,” Stiles told him.

Derek’s eyes met Ansel’s in the rearview mirror. The teen looked away. He wasn’t a fan of the book because it made him cry, but he would never complain about a request for Christmas Story Time. Even if it wasn’t a story about Christmas. “It’s kind of dark, isn't it?” Derek suggested carefully.

Stiles glanced out the window, his finger tracing patterns on the glass. Derek watched the lights of the passing cars running over his face, highlighting some of the moles. He hadn’t really noticed, but there was something beautiful about Stiles. The contemplative look on his face cut through Derek, and he squeezed his hand, pulling his attention back to Derek.

“Sorry,” he said. “The book is definitely not as cheerful as his others, but there’s something almost hauntingly beautiful about the imagery and the story. The idea of a lone child fighting to save an entire city, so he didn’t lose the memory of his mother…” Stiles trailed off and wiped at his eyes.

“Shit...I didn’t even…” 

Stiles waved him off. “You don’t have to apologize. The book was released on the fifteenth anniversary of my mom’s death. I was the first in line to get it because I was already a huge fan. I cried so hard when I read it. My therapist said it was cathartic, so now I read it whenever I’m really missing my mom.”

Derek cleared his throat, fighting back tears. He’d written the book to deal with his own grief, and hearing that it helped someone else with theirs touched him. “So, you’re in the mood to cry tonight?” he teased, tripping over the words.

Stiles shrugged, wiping at his eyes again. The silence stretched until they reached a stoplight, and Derek heard the click of a seatbelt. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he saw Ansel moving forward and wrapping his arms around Stiles from behind in a firm hug. The strength of it was evident in the visible tendons in the teen’s arms.

“I’ll cry with you,” Ansel whispered, and Derek couldn’t stop the wet laugh that escaped him. 

His cousin was a friendly boy, but he wasn’t physically affectionate with too many people. His parents and Derek were the exceptions. Seeing him offering a hug to someone he’d just met the previous day made Derek even more emotional than he already had been.

“Buckle up,” Derek said, trying for stern and coming off fond when the light changed to green.

Ansel settled back, buckling up and leaning forward as much as he could. He placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, patting it a few times before squeezing. Stiles reached up with the hand not holding Derek’s and laid it over Ansel’s. The rest of the ride was silent, but Stiles hadn’t let go of Derek’s hand. 

Derek’s parents had made it back to the house before everyone. His dad was in the family room, arranging the furniture in half-circle. At the center stood the large armchair that Derek joked was stolen from the  _ Masterpiece Theatre _ set when he was a kid. When his grandfather read  _ ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas _ every year, Derek insisted on the chair. It took Cora complaining about the repetitiveness of hearing the same story every year that had led to Hale Family Storytime. 

There were already a couple of books on the table next to the chair. Derek recognized  _ The Polar Express,  _ the one his mother and father chose together every year. His mother loved the story, and his father was in awe of the art. Derek credits Chris Van Allsburg as an inspiration for his own career and had copies of his books in his own collection.

He left Stiles to help his mother bring out the hot cocoa, cookies, and other refreshments and went upstairs to grab books. He quickly grabbed a copy of  _ Dorian _ from one of the boxes in the attic. He glanced at the cover and then over at his desk. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed an orange Sharpie from the pencil cup and scribbled an inscription on the blank page at the front of the book. 

Setting the book aside, he dug through the boxes to pick one for himself. Usually, he had an advanced reader copy of his next book, but that wasn’t the case that night. He knew that Ansel would choose one of his books. Two of his books were more than enough for one night, so he went through the few books his mother hadn’t sold off when he’d moved. Smiling to himself, he pulled out  _ Harold and the Purple Crayon. _

Stopping by the bedroom, he rolled his eyes at the pajamas lying on the bed. Every year, his mother bought everyone in the family, matching pajamas. That year’s pajamas were green onesies covered with Christmas lights. When Derek picked the largest of the three on the bed, he rolled his eyes when he caught the reflection in the dresser mirror. There was a red bum flap on the back that read “Out Like a Light.” 

He was trying to come up with an excuse not to wear them when Stiles came into the room with Ansel. They were talking animatedly about some video game Derek knew nothing about. They both stopped when they saw what Derek was holding and burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. There’s one for each of you,” Derek said, jerking his chin towards the bed.

“Awesome!” Stiles said, grabbing his and throwing the other at Ansel. “We’ll be Twinkies!”

“You are far too excited about this,” Derek said, grabbing his pajamas and heading for the bathroom. He grinned when Stiles started telling Ansel a story about bum flap pajama malfunctions from his childhood.

Once he’d changed, he grabbed the book from his bedroom and headed downstairs. He added them to the pile and took a mug from Stiles before settling into the armchair. Ansel sat at Derek’s feet on an orange dragon floor pillow. Stiles moved from the couch where he’d been about to sit next to Oliver and settled next to Ansel on a giant blue flower floor pillow. Derek rolled his eyes and nudged Stiles with his stocking-clad foot.

He watched Peter and Faith add their books to the pile. Laura and Oliver both loved  _ Where the Wild Things Are _ as kids and had an original edition they brought every year. The rule was that Derek read the books in order, so he wasn’t surprised when Cora took her time coming in before laying her copy of  _ The Velveteen Rabbit. _

“That’s a lot of books,” Stiles commented. “We’re going to be at this for a while, huh?”

“You can always fall asleep like Ansel does,” Derek teased.

“I haven’t fallen asleep in years!” the teen argued.

“Then how does  _ ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas  _ end?” Cora teased, dropping down onto the ottoman near the fireplace.

Ansel flipped her off behind his mug, and Derek choked out a laugh. Stiles let out a low, “Ooooooh,” and Peter threw a pillow at Ansel. 

Shaking his head, Derek picked up Cora’s book and opened it. Clearing his throat, he started to read. “There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning, he was really splendid.”

They took a bathroom and stretching break after  _ Strangers’ Bread _ . Derek helped his mom clean up the empty plates and mugs from the living room. He stood next to her, loading the dishwasher. 

“Things seem to be better with Stiles,” she commented.

“I hope so,” Derek admitted softly. “He’s a nice kid. Even if he is a wolf thief.”

“He’s not a kid anymore,” she pointed out, leaning back against the counter and studying Derek. “And I thought you would’ve forgotten about Wolfy by now. That old toy is probably long gone. Besides, you  _ gave _ Wolfy to him because he was crying and you didn’t like it.”

“Excuse me, I  _ loaned  _ Wolfy to him, and he ran away without giving him back!” Derek huffed, and his mother laughed as she messed up his hair. “I think he still has him.”

She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth but snapped it shut when Stiles stumbled into the room, carrying the stuffed animal in question. “Aw, that’s cute,” she said, winking at Derek. “Where’d you get him?”

Stiles looked down at Wolfy and then at Ansel, who skidded to a stop next to him. “Um..well...it’s…”

“Stiles has a stuffed wolf! Isn’t it cool?” Ansel asked, trying to reach around Stiles to get to the toy. 

“Stop poking fun,” Stiles muttered, trying to shove Wolfy down the front of his onesie.

Derek reached out and laid a hand over Wolfy. “He’s not making fun of you,” Derek assured. “He loves stuffed animals and has a massive collection.” Derek had rolled over onto an otter the previous night. One year he’d woken up to find a wide-eyed stuffed owl staring at him from Ansel’s pillow. He wasn’t surprised that he was excited about Stiles’ wolf.

Stiles eyed Ansel carefully, smiling when Ansel reached into the sleeve of his onesie and pulled out a tiny elephant. “This is Peanut,” he said proudly and held him out to Stiles. “I got him when I went to the zoo when I was five.”

“He’s adorable,” Stiles admitted, reaching out for him. 

Derek waited for Ansel to tug him back towards his chest as he did whenever someone tried to touch Peanut. Surprisingly, he set the elephant into Stiles’ palm with only a moment of hesitation. Derek saw his mom leave the kitchen, hurrying to talk to Peter and Faith. 

Stiles looked from Peanut to Wolfy and back again. Then he held out Wolfy to Ansel, who took it with a grin. “Can I hold him for the rest of the story?” he asked. Stiles nodded, and Ansel hurried into the family room, calling for Cora to come to see Wolfy.

“That was nice of you,” Derek said. Stiles shrugged and held his palm up to study Peanut. “Have you had him a long time?”

“As long as I can remember. I’m not sure where he came from. Even my dad doesn’t know.” He grinned. “Magic, I guess.”

Derek chuckled. “When I was a kid, I had a stuffed wolf named Wolfy. One day, a fae child came along and spirited him away. I cried and ranted in my journal for days about the theft.”

Stiles’ eyes grew wider as Derek continued talking. The tale of a stolen wolf twisting off his tongue with ease, and he began to hope he would remember the story later. When he finished with the Wolf, like the Velveteen Rabbit, becoming real and coming to rescue him from being lost in the woods.

“He’s yours?” Stiles asked.

“He was,” Derek admitted. “But now he’s yours.”

“That story was amazing. Did you make it up right now?”

“I did.” Derek laughed, his mind whirling with images. As much as the circumstances behind coming home suck, it had renewed his inspiration. He was afraid he’d never sleep at this rate, but he’d probably have at least two new books started before the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve. 

“Well, you should write it and publish it,” Stiles told him, wrapping his fingers around Peanut and nudging Derek with his elbow. “I’d read it to my class.”

Derek felt the tips of his ears burning as he struggled to come up with something to say. His mother chose that moment to call them back into the living room to finish storytime. Derek sat in the chair, smiling when Stiles pulled his chair closer and balanced Peanut on his knee. Ansel smiled and put Wolfy on the other knee.

As he picked up  _ Ansel Answers the Call,  _ Ansel clapped his hands. Derek shot him a warning look, and he shrugged. “What? It’s my favorite book!” 

Derek laughed as he opened the book. He didn't have to look at the pages, the words ever-present in his memory. Keeping his eyes on Ansel and Stiles, Derek was hard-pressed to choose which was more enthralled by the story. He grinned when Stiles let out a happy sigh at the end, reaching for Wolfy and hugging him to his chest.

Ansel took the book as soon as Derek was finished reading it and set it in his lap, running a hand over its cover. Stiles bumped shoulders with him before turning his attention to Derek as he picked up  _ Dorian. _ Ansel curled into Stiles’ side, and Derek wondered if the teen would cry and how hard Stiles would. 

Derek’s voice stuck in his throat a few times as he went through the pages. He smiled a little when Stiles nudged Ansel and pointed to one of the pages. Derek enjoyed hiding Easter Eggs in his book, and on that page, he’d drawn a tiny aardwolf in the shadows of the lone tree left in Dorian. It was one of his more obvious ones, but it had been for Ansel, so he’d wanted to be sure the boy had seen it.

By the time Derek closed the book, there were tears in everyone’s eyes. “Thank you,” Stiles mouthed to Derek, and he dropped his head in acknowledgment before reaching for the final book.

Everyone was already quiet, so he reached underneath the chair and pulled out the Santa hat he donned every year while reading the final story. He glared when Stiles whipped his phone out to snap a picture. Stiles pouted at him, and he gave a smile and a wink so he could take another one. Cora teased him and Stiles for a minute before his mother spoke up.

“It’s getting late, and Santa still needs to come, so let’s get the last story done so all the good girls and boys can go to bed,” Talia said, a fond smile on her face as she repeated the words she did every year. 

Laura jumped in with her usual response of, “Guess Derek doesn’t get to go to bed, then,” and everyone laughed. 

Stiles’ laugh was the loudest, and Derek bit his lip to keep himself from grinning too wide. The look on his father’s face told him he wasn’t hiding his emotions very well. Clearing his throat, he opened the book. “‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.”

Ansel was drifting off by the time Derek called out, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” 

Stiles clapped his hands, startling Ansel awake. The boy clapped along, and the rest of the family joined in. “Stop,” Derek said, taking off his Santa hat and throwing it at Stiles.

It was a practiced dance for the family to clean up, moving around Ansel where he’d curled up on his dragon pillow. Stiles stayed out of the way as much as he could. After everyone else had gone to bed, Derek directed him to pull a blanket off the couch’s back and lay it over Ansel. 

“He sleeps down here?” 

“He has for the last few years when he got too big for one of us to carry upstairs,” Derek explained. “It makes putting the presents under the tree a bit tricky. Luckily he stopped believing Santa went to everyone’s houses about the same year he got too big.”

Derek picked up  _ Dorian _ , the only book left on the table, and turned to give it to Stiles. “For you.”

“I have a copy,” Stiles reminded him but took it anyway. 

“Have another.” Kneeling, he pressed a kiss to Ansel’s forehead. He stood and pulled Stiles into a hug. “Good night.”

Stiles returned the hug and echoed the sentiment before letting go. Looking at the seat of the armchair, Stiles picked up Wolfy and laid him next to Ansel, smiling when the boy moved in his sleep, pulling the stuffed toy closer to his chest. He snuffled against the fur before settling again into slumber. “That’s alright, yeah?” he asked Derek.

“He’s yours,” Derek said, poking Stiles in the ribs before heading back upstairs.

“I think he’s Ansel’s now,” Stiles corrected, catching up and leaning into Derek as they slowed their pace. 

“You’re stuck with us now. You know that, right?” Derek said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“I think it’s you that’s stuck with me,” Stiles countered, heading into the bedroom.

Stiles stopped walking so suddenly that Derek walked into him and knocked both of them off balance. It took a second to recover, and when he did, he saw what had stopped Stiles from moving. The air mattress was lying flat on the floor, all of the air gone. Groaning, Derek pressed his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder. His entire body sagged in mental and physical exhaustion.

He took a moment to pull himself together and then started gathering the pillows and blankets from the floor. He knew it wasn’t a long walk and climb to the attic, but all he wanted to do was go to sleep and not wake up until his mother sent Ansel in the morning to drag him out of bed. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Stiles asked from where he was climbing into the bed.

“Attic,” Derek mumbled. His eyes were barely open, and he ran into the doorjamb hard enough to send a shock through his system. He woke up at that, cursing under his breath.

“Just sleep here before you hurt yourself,” Stiles said, sliding to one edge of the bed and flipping down the covers on the empty side. “There’s plenty of room.”

Derek knew he should debate the consequences of sharing a bed with Stiles, but his body was already starting to droop. Yawning loudly, he shuffled to the bed and barely managed to fall onto it without hitting the floor. Derek threw the blankets in his arms towards the foot of the bed. Once he was happy with where they’d landed, he wriggled around until his head was on the pillow. “Night, Stiles,” he said around a yawn.

“Night, Derek,” Stiles responded, and Derek saw through his barely open eyelids when he turned onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. It was scarcely a moment before soft snores filled the room and lulled Derek completely into slumber.

Derek woke up feeling too hot and with a heavy weight on his chest. His first thought was that he’d caught a cold; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up sick on Christmas Day. He didn’t want to have to spend the entire day in bed and miss out on all the celebrations. He really wanted to give Stiles his gift. His first thought was dismissed when the weight on his chest moved and made a snuffling sound.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down to see Stiles with his face pressed into Derek’s chest. Eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open, and one hand twisted into the bottom of Derek’s shirt, he looked like a child. Derek hesitated to wake him, but he heard movement from downstairs. He knew it would only be a few minutes before Ansel came bounding in shouting for them to wake up.

He opened his mouth to wake Stiles when he heard thundering footsteps on the stairs. He panicked and reached out to poke at Stiles’ cheek, which only succeeded in making him turn his face until it was wholly pressed into Derek’s chest. Struggling to sit up without sending Stiles flying off the bed was difficult, and the most he’d done was to slide up the bed and send Stiles face into his lap.

Before he could do anything else, Ansel burst into the room. Whatever he’d been about to shout turned into a shocked gasp, and he slapped his hands over his eyes. “Does this mean he’s your boyfriend, now?” he asked, and Derek was thankful he kept his voice too quiet for the rest of the house to hear. He regretted his gratitude a moment later when Ansel turned on his heel and headed back downstairs, shouting out, “Derek and Stiles slept together!”

That was when Stiles’ eyes blinked open. It took him a minute of moving around before he froze and shot up into a sitting position. “I’m sorry!” he shouted before moving backward and nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

Derek reached out to grab him. “Don’t crack your skull. I’m not spending Christmas Day in the emergency room again.”

“There’s a story there,” Stiles said after a moment.

“There’s always a story, and I can’t wait to hear this one,” Cora said. They both turned to find the entire family crammed into the doorway, with Ansel gesturing toward them in a “See, I told you” manner.

Sitting up, Derek pointed at the airless mattress at the foot of the bed. “I was too tired to go to the attic,” he muttered.

“Shame about the air mattress,” Uncle Peter said. “Must have popped a hole somehow.”

Every Hale turned to give him a look, knowing that innocent tone of voice was an attempt to hide a devious streak. Stiles climbed over Derek and off the bed, slipping and sliding on the wooden floor. Ansel grabbed him and managed to keep him on his feet as Derek made a much more graceful exit from the bed. 

“Aren’t there presents to open?” Derek asked, the words having the distracting effect he’d been hoping for when Ansel started dragging Stiles out of the room and towards the stairs. The rest of Derek’s family fell into line behind them.

Derek headed to the attic stairs. He needed to get Stiles’ gift from where it had been hidden. Derek found his father waiting at the bottom after pulling it out and carrying it to the stairs. “Thought you might need some help,” he said, reaching up to take one end of the drawing so that Derek could make his way carefully down the narrow stairway.

Once he was on the same level as his father, he took the package and settled it more firmly in his grip. “You know that we would be okay with Stiles, right?” his father asked, and Derek’s ears burned.

“We’re friends,” Derek muttered, pretty sure that was an accurate title for what they had become over the last few days. He hoped that was what they were because he knew that he would miss him once Stiles went back to living with his dad. He ignored the small ache in his chest as he repeated, “Friends.”

“I wasn’t saying that you weren’t,” he said. 

“Braeden and I literally just broke up less than a week ago,” Derek argued weakly. He knew that things had been over with her for a long time, even if he’d been afraid to admit it to himself.

His father didn’t say anything, just kept watch on him as Derek made his way down the stairs and into the living room where Ansel was vibrating out of his skin in excitement. He already had his stocking in his lap. As soon as Derek and his dad crossed the threshold of the room, he tore into the stocking. Derek chuckled as he leaned the package against the wall behind the Christmas tree before settling on the floor pillow left empty next to Stiles.

There were a lot of presents spread throughout the room, but everyone was watching Ansel. They always opened presents, starting with the youngest, and since none of his other cousins had made it, Ansel was the youngest. Everyone else picked through their stockings while Ansel began tearing into his gifts, shouting out thanks to everyone for the presents. He even got excited about the socks and underwear from his parents; Derek really loved that kid.

Stiles let out a breath of relief when Ansel opened the present from him. He picked through each item before wrapping the scarf around his neck. After snapping a selfie, Ansel launched himself across the room. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, sending them both sprawling to the ground. “Thank you,” he said over and over again.

“You’re welcome, little dude,” Stiles responded, laughing when Ansel huffed and muttered, “Don’t call me ‘dude.’”

After that, things settled down, Ansel curling up and reading the book Derek’s parents had gotten for him. Cora and Stiles argued for a few minutes about who was older until Cora huffed and just started opening her gifts. Derek never did find out which of them was older. He laughed when she stared at Stiles in shock after opening his presents. “This is perfect. How did you know?”

“A little elf helped me,” he said, winking at Derek, who shook his head fondly and turned his attention back to his sister. “Seriously, I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a gamer. You’ve been holding out on me, little girl.”

“Oi! Watch who you’re calling ‘little girl,’” Cora snapped. “As soon as all the gifts are open, it is on!”

Derek watched the trash-talking for a minute before nudging Cora to finish opening her gifts. She only had a few left, and she gave quiet smiles to each family member as their presents were revealed. Her banter with Stiles was forgotten as she started muttering to herself about her setup. Derek could tell she’d be in the basement rearranging her gaming den as soon as she could possibly escape.

Stiles was next, and he looked genuinely surprised by the stack of gifts that was pushed towards him. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “Allowing me to share Christmas with you is gift enough.”

“In that case…” Ansel said, reaching for a gift and laughing when Stiles snatched it out of his grasp.

Opening the gifts with more care than Derek expected, Stiles actually got up to hug each person for their presents. Uncle Peter and his family had given him a gift certificate for an office supply store as well as a huge box full of art supplies. “My kids will love all of this,” he told them. 

Laura and Oliver gave him a deluxe auto safety kit. They’d even included five rolls of duct tape in various colors, and Stiles had flipped them off from behind his hand. He couldn’t do anything except laugh when Talia tossed balled up wrapping paper at him and scolded him.

The stack of children’s books and a gift card for the local bookstore from his parents brought tears to Stiles’ eyes. “This is way too generous,” he said. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Say ‘thank you,’ Stiles,” Talia said to him as she opened her arms for the hug he bestowed.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Derek was impressed he didn’t go for the obvious joke and realized that he was deeply touched by the gifts he’d received. 

Nervously, Derek rose to his feet to retrieve Stiles’ gift. He set it in front of him as the entire family scooted forward; no one except Ansel had actually seen the drawing yet. Carefully, Stiles unwrapped the gift. His eyes widened as it was revealed, and he looked at it all over. His lips moved a few times, and Derek saw his eyes dart to the bottom of the drawing and then back over it again.

“How? This is Garrett Roue’s work. Even without the signature, I would know it.” He looked at Derek and back to the picture. “It’s the tree from the deck. Down to every last detail. And the wolf. And a fox, like the story.” Stiles closed his eyes and took a shallow breath. “How?”

Derek opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Stiles stood suddenly and left the room. At least he took the picture with him, so he didn’t hate it. He looked at his family, at a loss for what had just happened. His uncle shook his head while Cora reached over and slapped him upside the back of his head.

“Derek, if you care about him and want to keep sleeping with him, go after him!” Ansel said, hitting him in the arm with the giant Squishmallow werewolf he’d gotten from Laura. The blow knocked Derek off the pillow, and he scrambled to his feet, running up the stairs.

He hoped he wouldn’t go into the bedroom to find Stiles packing, but the room was empty when he got there. He heard a noise above him, and with a sinking heart, he knew where he would find Stiles. Climbing the stairs as quietly as he could, he discovered Stiles sitting in his chair, flipping through the sketchbook he’d been working in since arriving home. In his lap was the copy of  _ Dorian _ from the night before, open to the autograph.

“You’re Garrett Roue,” Stiles said. “You can’t even deny it because there’s no way anyone else in the house could be him.” He looked up at Derek, his eyes wide with awe and damp with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me? All those times I went on and on about him...about you?”

“No one knows outside of the family and Lydia,” Derek explained. “And now you.” He groaned as a thought occurred to him. “And Mr. Walker who figured it out when he framed the picture, but I don’t count him.”

“You told Mr. Walker before me!?” Stiles squawked, his lips tugging down at the corners. “And I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Derek said, moving forward to kneel in front of Stiles to look up into his face. He tapped the autograph. “I thought you would’ve seen this last night, and the picture wouldn’t be such a shock.”

“To Stiles, my biggest fan and newest friend. All the best, Garret Roue,” Stiles read before squinting his eyes at the autograph. “Is that a ‘DH’ inside the ‘o’?”

“It is,” Derek responded, smiling when Stiles’ eyes finally met his. “In case the message wasn’t enough.”

“Your family probably thinks I’m an idiot,” Stiles muttered. “Laughing at me for being so obtuse.”

“Stiles, my identity has been a secret since I was fifteen years old and I published Ansel’s book-”

“Shit, it’s actually about Ansel!”

Derek shook his head. “Ansel is named after the book, not the other way around. I wrote it as a gift for Uncle Peter and Aunt Faith when she was pregnant with him. They liked the name so much, they used it.” Stiles still looked uncomfortable and a little bit angry. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Will you come read to my class?” Stiles asked. Derek knew he would do just about anything to get Stiles to smile and forgive him, but he still wasn’t ready to reveal his identity. He liked living in anonymity. “As Derek, not as Garrett,” he hurried to continue. “You did so well last night.”

“I can do that,” Derek told him, letting out a breath when Stiles’ smile turned bright.

“Man, you are going to  _ hate  _ what I got you,” he muttered. 

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Derek assured him, standing and pulling Stiles to his feet. His breath caught in his chest when the move brought them into close proximity. 

Derek could see flecks of gold in Stiles’ eyes, and he had to bite into his lower lip to keep from doing something stupid like telling him he had beautiful eyes. “Your eyes are so cool,” Stiles breathed out, startling Derek out of his own reverie. 

Derek wanted to reply in kind, but Ansel’s head popped up through the opening at the top of the stairs. “There’s still presents to open!” he shouted, sounding angry, but his broad smile gave him away. 

“Give us a minute,” Derek said just as Stiles said, “Hold your horses, buckaroo!” They all burst into laughter, and Ansel retreated down the stairs hollering, “One minute!”

They stayed where they were for another moment. Derek didn’t even bother hiding that he was studying Stiles’ eyes since he was doing the same in return. “Have dinner with me,” he said before he could stop himself.

Stiles’ face scrunched up in confusion. “Isn’t that the whole point of all this, Christmas dinner with your family?”

“No,” Derek said. “Well, yes, but I meant after the holiday. After you’re back at your dad’s house. Have dinner with me.”

“As friends, or…”

“If you wanted just friends, but I was thinking, or…” Derek smirked when Stiles let out a laugh.

“I’m very good with or…”

“Hurry up!” Ansel shouted, and Derek started to speak, but Stiles pressed a quick kiss to his lips before hurrying to the stairs.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” Derek asked his back, laughing as he found himself chasing Stiles down the stairs.

He’d caught Stiles by the back of the shirt just before the opening to the living room, causing them both to tumble into the wall. He heard giggling as he tried to press his fingers into Stiles’ ribs. His movements stilled when he realized they had an audience. They turned their heads to the room. Every member of the family had a finger pointing into the air above their heads.

Groaning, he pressed his forehead into the back of Stiles’ neck before looking up to see the large ball of mistletoe that used to reside in the dining room doorway. “I guess we don’t want a Christmas foul,” Stiles said, wriggling around until he was facing Derek without disrupting his grip.

“Must all our kisses have an audience?” Derek mumbled as he pressed his lips against Stiles’, giving in to the urge to nip at his lower lip this time. He preened at the small growl that escaped Stiles at the action.

The kiss continued until something soft hit them in the side of their heads. Pulling apart, they looked down at the stuffed coyote that Laura had given Ansel lying at their feet. “Derek, it’s your turn!” the teen whined, and Derek reached down to pick up the coyote and toss it back.

Settling onto the pillows, a bit closer than before, Derek reached for the first gift. He froze when Stiles grabbed for it and tried to tug it away. “Nope. This is a figment of your imagination. There is absolutely no gift from Stiles in this pile.” He tugged again, but Derek gave a quick yank and managed to free it from his grip.

Leaning back as far as he could, he managed to unwrap the gift while holding it over his head. He could barely see what it was while Stiles was trying to climb up the length of him to grab at it. Just as Stiles’ fingers brushed the edge, Ansel ripped it out of Derek’s hands and started laughing. Stiles’ body went limp on top of Derek, his face pressing into Derek’s neck. Ignoring his own curiosity, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles. He tried to make reassuring noises, ignoring the coos and camera shutters that were sounding around them.

He felt a nudge to his side and looked up to see Ansel holding out the gift. Derek pressed his lips together as his eyes traced the wall calendar featuring the artwork from his books. Ansel’s family’s puppy pile was prominently displayed on the cover. Stiles smacked at his chest. “Stop making fun of the idiot.”

Derek frowned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, flipping off his sister without looking when she cooed loudly. “You’re not an idiot. You bought me a gift sharing your favorite author with me; it’s not your fault that you didn’t know it  _ was _ me.”

“I should’ve known,” Stiles said into Derek’s chest. “My father would be so disappointed in my observational skills.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” someone said, and Stiles raised his head. His eyes were wide when he met Derek’s for a brief moment before scrambling to his feet. 

The family laughed as he turned in circles before coming to a stop, staring at the opening into the living room. Derek tilted his head back before rolling over to his stomach and pushing himself up to stand. He had just gotten upright when Stiles sobbed, “DAD!” and launched himself across the room and into the arms of the laughing man.

Derek moved to stand next to his mother, leaning into her shoulder when she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to get home until tomorrow.”

“We saw how much Stiles was missing him, so we switched their plane tickets to a red-eye that left an hour after the boat docked instead of tomorrow morning,” she explained. 

Derek looked back over in time to meet the Sheriff’s eye. The look on his face was considering, and Derek swallowed audibly, earning a laugh from his mother. 

“Guess you’re meeting the parents already,” another voice spoke up, and Derek turned to find Melissa McCall-Stilinski coming in from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her smile was as bright and welcoming as Derek remembered.

“Melissa!” Stiles called, untangling himself from his father. Thankfully, Derek grabbed the mugs out of her hands before Stiles threw himself into her arms, laughing and crying even more than he had with his father.

The Sheriff’s hand on his shoulder drew his attention away from watching Stiles with Melissa. “Merry Christmas, Sir,” he said, handing over one of the mugs.

“I’ve told you to call me ‘John,’” he reminded Derek, taking a sip and closing his eyes on a sigh. He looked so much like his son at that moment. It brought a smile to Derek’s face.

“How was your flight?”

“Glad it’s over,” he returned, chuckling when Stiles came back to attach himself to his father.

“Can we finish presents now?” Ansel asked.

“We’re keeping a teenager from gifts?” John asked mock-offense heavy in his voice.

“No. Ansel is done opening his presents. He just wants to get to breakfast,” Derek explained.

There was shuffling around the room. Laura and Oliver gave up their spots on the loveseat to John and Melissa. They sat on the hearth of the fireplace while Derek finished opening his gifts. Then it was Oliver’s turn. While he opened his presents, Derek made eye contact with Stiles, where he’d planted himself on the floor leaning against his father’s legs. Holding up the calendar, he mouthed, “Still my favorite.” 

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, but he was smiling when he turned away to watch the presents being opened. Everyone enjoyed what they received. The only time things got a little tense was when Derek’s parents opened the gift cards for dinner and a movie from Stiles. “Our kids don’t give us gifts,” Talia scolded Stiles, reaching over and cuffing him lightly on the ear.

Derek hid his grin in his hand at the thought of Stiles being officially dubbed family by his mother. It sent his mind to places he knew he shouldn’t already be thinking about - future holidays that were not promised when they hadn’t even had an actual date yet.

Stiles pointed at the envelopes on Talia’s lap. “Then what are those?”

“Donations to different charities in our name,” she explained. “Derek usually gives to Wolf Haven International. Laura and Oliver give to St. Jude’s. The others vary from year to year.” Talia looked puzzled as she picked up one last envelope. “I’m not sure…”

“It’s from me,” Ansel spoke up. Talia opened her mouth. “Please just open it.”

Talia opened the envelope and pulled out a card. She read it over, and her eyes welled up. Holding the card to her chest, she looked at Ansel. “It’s a donation to the Trevor Project. I am proud of you and proud to have a donation in our name to such a worthy cause.”

“Good job, kid,” Stiles told him, laughing when Ansel rolled his eyes at him.

It wasn’t long after, they were working together to clean up the papers. John and Melissa were told to stay put because they were guests. When Stiles tried to object, Cora was the one who pointed out that Talia had dubbed him one of her kids. Pouting, Stiles brought his dad and stepmom more coffee and returned to stuffing wrapping paper into garbage bags.

Breakfast was made up of a delicious breakfast casserole as well as a French toast bake. Homemade cinnamon rolls rounded out the meal. Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles stuck a candle in the top of one, his family not missing the chance to embarrass him by serenading him. 

“I felt bad enough that we don’t have Christmas presents for everyone,” John muttered.

Smiling, Melissa looked where Stiles was feeding Derek a bit of French toast bake. “I think he’s already got everything that he wants,” she whispered, just loud enough to send off another round of cooing and a burn to Derek’s ears.

Christmas Day went more quickly than any that Derek could recall, and when it came time for Stiles to leave, Derek had a hard time saying goodbye to him. He stood in the doorway, hand in the air, waving goodbye until the Jeep had disappeared around the bend in the road. Sighing, Derek leaned against the door jamb until his mother shouted at him to stop letting the warm air out of the house.

Peter and Faith left that evening but left Ansel behind for a few days. It wasn’t unusual, but Derek wondered if they did it so Derek wouldn’t be lonely. He had a good time with his cousin during the day, and after he went to bed, he headed up to the attic. Working more quickly than he remembered, Derek put together presentations for all of the ideas that had come to him over the previous days.

When they were all done, he scanned them into the computer and mailed them off to Lydia, who responded with great enthusiasm. He knew that even with just those three stories, he would be swamped for the foreseeable future. Then, a few days before their first official date, Stiles was talking about lacrosse during a late-night phone conversation. He again mentioned being called Biles Bilinski by his lacrosse coach, and another story laid itself out in his sketchbook before he’d hung up the phone.

Their first date was awkward until Stiles picked up one of the cheddar bay biscuits and threw it across the table, hitting Derek right between the eyes. Their laughter was loud, and a few of the other diners had glared at them, but most of them sent smiles their way. They did apologize when one little boy at another table mirrored Sitles’ actions and hit a man at another table. They agreed not to return for a long time to that restaurant.

That first date turned into another and then another until they were beginning to spend time together three or four nights a week. If they didn’t see each other, they were on the phone. Derek came into Stiles’ classroom about a month into the new year and spent most of the day reading stories to the kids. He had a terrible time saying ‘no’ when they begged for “Just one more.” He ended up promising to come back soon and had been overwhelmed by the ‘thank you’ notes and drawings Stiles brought to him a few days later.

The next time he came to the class, there was a floor cushion just for him with the entire class’ handprints on it, including Stiles’. Smiling, Derek told the kids he would take it home with him, but they said he couldn’t because then he might not come back. His visits became a monthly occurrence until the end of the school year. 

When the school year ended, Derek received the first copy of his fox and wolf Christmas story. He showed up at Stiles’ house that night with it in his hands, a big smile on his face. Stiles opened the door to his father’s house, looking defeated until his eyes fell on the cover. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. However, he still took the book and exclaimed over every page, especially the replica of his Christmas present on the cover.

When Derek took the book back and asked what was wrong, Stiles curled into himself. “It’s stupid, but my dad and Melissa are selling the house.” He looked around himself. “I know it’s just a building, but it’s where my mom lived.”

Derek pulled him into a hug. “I get it, but you’ll still have her memories,” he said into his hair. 

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Stiles muttered. “It’s just the least selfish of what I’m upset about.” Derek made a curious sound. “They’re moving into a two-bedroom condo, but they want the extra room to be a guest room.”

Derek’s lips quirked. “So, you have to find a place to live?”

Stiles threw his hands in the air as best he could with Derek’s arms wrapped around him. “Exactly! I know I’m plenty old enough. No one has to tell me I shouldn’t still be living at home, but…”

“You don’t know how to live alone,” Derek finished for him. A part of him could relate to what Stiles was saying, even though he had lived alone when he’d first left home. It wasn’t for very long before he’d moved in with Braeden, and then he’d returned right back to his parent’s house. 

“How do you do that?” Stiles asked. “How do you always manage to put what I’m thinking and feeling into words?”

“I’m a writer,” Derek said. “I may not be good at expressing my own feelings, but I’m still good at words.”

Speaking of his own feelings, he had one running through him at that moment. It was something he’d briefly thought about but pushed aside under the idea that it was too soon to be considered. Of course, he’d thought it had been too soon to consider dating Stiles, and that had worked out well so far. He closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted from his future. He allowed himself to create the story in his head, ignoring any negative thoughts that tried to force him to be realistic by society’s expectations.

Smiling, he pictured Stiles in his pajamas, blinking sleepily over a mug of coffee while Derek made breakfast. He envisioned leaning over to wake Stiles with a kiss to the temple while his alarm blared in the background, unheeded. Derek imagined Stiles leaning over him as he worked at his drafting table, pointing at parts of the drawings and making suggestions. His mind slipped into naughtier images before he allowed his thoughts to end on kissing Stiles good night and curling up beside him in  _ their  _ bed.

“Where’d you go?” Stiles asked when Derek blinked his eyes and brought himself back to the present. His fingers traced the smile on Derek’s face before pressing their lips together. “It must have been a nice place. I want to go, too.” 

“Move in with me,” Derek said, squashing down the voice in the back of his head that sounded like nobody he knew telling him it was too soon. 

“I know your family loves me, but I don’t think they’d appreciate me moving in with them,” Stiles said. He was choosing his words carefully as if unsure if he was missing something.

Without releasing Stiles, he leaned down and reached into his portfolio and pulled out the stack of real estate listings he’d brought with him. “Then help me find us a house,” he said, spreading them out on the table in front of them. Stiles’ eyes lit up, and they bent their heads together as they looked at the listings together. Derek took that as a ‘yes.’

They moved into their house at the beginning of October. Stiles was already planning how they were going to decorate for Halloween. Derek smiled as their families spent several days helping them get moved in. Stiles had been surprised when Laura and Cora unpacked the boxes labeled “bedroom” and started setting it up. Derek pointed out that Scott and Kira were putting away their toiletries in the bathroom. They shook their heads fondly at each other as Stiles teased about printing shirts with the definition of boundaries on them.

Derek and Stiles hosted Thanksgiving at their house. It was a wild and crazy event with tables set up in several rooms since their dining room wasn’t quite big enough. Ansel brought his friend Taylor, and the entire family welcomed them with open arms. Peter said, “Pass the salt, kiddo,” during dinner, and Taylor’s smile was wide as they did just that.

Before they knew it, Christmas had returned, and they were packing up to go spend the week at Derek’s parent’s house. “Is it weird that I’m excited about this? I mean, it’s just a couple miles away. Still, it feels like a vacation,” Stiles said as he put both pairs of their pajamas from the previous year into the duffle bag they were taking with them.

“You know we’ll be getting new pairs,” Derek teased, bringing in their toiletry bag from the bathroom and setting it inside the duffle.

“Yeah, but we need something to wear until we do,” Stiles pointed out. “Can’t exactly sleep like we do here.” He sank back into Derek when he wrapped his arms around him from behind and nuzzled into his neck.

“I like how we sleep here,” Derek grumbled playfully before nipping at Stiles’ collar, pulling away with the fabric still caught between his teeth.

“You’re worse than a puppy. No wonder you don’t want to get one,” Stiles teased, and Derek had to bite back a laugh.

The days leading up to Christmas were just as hectic as they always were. Derek and Stiles won the scavenger hunt again, but Cora and Ansel were only a few minutes behind them. Stiles introduced some of his mom’s recipes to dinner on Christmas Eve, including what had become Derek’s favorite since they’d moved in together: Gołąbki. 

Hale Family Story Time was filled with books, and Derek wouldn’t let Stiles see the one he had chosen for that year. He laughed when Ansel fought to keep his eyes open, leaning into Stiles while he read  _ Ansel Answers the Call _ . When the book was done, Derek closed it, reached into the portfolio sitting next to him, and extracted a sketchbook. He’d already submitted the scans for the story, but the advanced reader’s copy wouldn’t be arriving for a few months.

_ “Biles Saves the Day, _ ” Derek read before opening the sketchbook and displaying the first drawing of a baby boa constrictor sunning itself on a bench. The ground around it was littered with lacrosse equipment. “Biles was a baby boa who loved to sun himself next to the large green field.”

“That’s me,” Stiles said to Ansel. “I have a book now.” His voice was awed, and Ansel rolled his eyes but butted his head playfully into his shoulder.

Once the last story was read and Stiles had shouted out, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” before Derek even got a chance, they headed upstairs to their room. Ansel tagged alone, settling onto the new air mattress on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Once they were settled, Derek was startled by the landing of something soft on the bed between himself and Stiles. “He missed you,” Ansel muttered, and Derek reached out, his fingers finding Wolfy lying between them. Stiles’ fingers twisted with his a moment later, and they fell asleep holding the toy between them.

Derek hurried to silence the alarm on his phone that he’d shoved under his pillow. He had no worries about it disturbing Stiles, but he was worried about Ansel. It became a legitimate concern because his cousin was sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“Wanna help me with something?” Derek whispered. Ansel yawned, nodded, and followed Derek out of the room and down the stairs to the front door.

Derek could see the headlights in the driveway as he came down the stairs, so he hurried to open the front door to a half-asleep Scott on the front steps. In his arms, wriggled what Derek was waiting for. The puppy let out a quiet yip as soon as he saw Derek, recognizing him from the vet’s office visits over the previous six weeks. The puppy came from a dog that had been found in labor in an alley. He was one of seven pups. When Scott had mentioned the puppies would be for adoption and ready to go home on Christmas, Derek started to formulate a plan.

“Hey, buddy,” Derek whispered into the puppy’s warm fur. The grey and white markings gave away its husky heritage. Deaton said that the blood test he ran detected there was some spaniel in him as well, explaining the floppy ears that were almost too big for his head. The puppy licked at his chin. “Thanks, Scott. See you for dinner?”

Scott nodded and waved a hand before heading back towards his car. Derek saw Kira lean over from the driver’s seat and wave wildly. He was glad that she was the one driving when Scott nearly fell into the car. Handing the puppy off to Ansel, Derek closed the door. 

“Is this for Stiles or for me?” Ansel asked, giggling when he got licked on the nose.

“Your father would kill me,” Derek said. “Now, we just need to do one more thing before this little guy takes away your job of waking up the house.”

Ansel followed Derek into the small laundry room off the kitchen. Derek and his mother had worked the day before to set it up for the puppy. The first thing he grabbed was the small blue collar he’d purchased. A special message was embroidered into it, and Ansel’s eyes widened as he read it and then looked at the tag. 

“Now, we just have to hope he stays quiet until it’s time for Stiles to open his gifts,” Derek said to Ansel.

“Everyone’s here,” Ansel said. “That makes Stiles the fifth person in order.”

“Cross your fingers,” Derek said as his mother appeared in the kitchen, yawning and moving to take the casseroles out of the refrigerator. “Now, go, do your job.”

Grinning, Ansel ran up the stairs to wake everyone up. It wasn’t long until there was a pounding of footsteps and a lot of commotion in the kitchen. Derek frowned when the puppy whimpered and howled a little bit. He glanced at his mom, who shrugged. “We might have to do one gift out of order this year,” she said. “I’m sure most of the kids will understand.”

“Understand what?” Stiles asked, coming into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and making grabby hands towards the reindeer head coffee mug Talia held out to him. “Do I hear a puppy?”

Sighing, Derek knelt down and picked up the puppy, who was whining and pawing at his leg. Stepping over the baby gate he’d installed in the doorway, he carried the puppy over. He handed him to Stiles, grabbing the coffee mug before Stiles dropped it.

Derek had been hoping to record the moment, but his phone was still upstairs under his pillow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ansel in the doorway with his phone held out, a broad smile on his face. Derek mouthed ‘thank you,’ and his cousin winked in return.

“Is this for me?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek with wide eyes over the puppy’s head. “Or is it for the kids? It’s for the kids, isn’t it?” His face started to fall, and he cradled the puppy to his chest, running a hand over his head.

Derek watched as his fingers stilled over the collar. Reaching, he gently turned the collar, and his lips moved. Stiles glanced back up at Derek, eyes wide. “This better be for me,” he said, his voice thick with the tears in his eyes. “Because if I get my hopes up and make a fool of myself and this is like, I don’t know, something you’re holding for someone else, I don’t think…”

“What does the collar say?” Peter called out from behind Ansel. 

Derek and Stiles turned twin glares on him before Derek stepped forward. Sinking to one knee, he looked up at Stiles and reached for one of his hands, while the other cupped the puppy against his chest. “It’s for you,” Derek told him. “The puppy. The question on the collar. The item tied to the tag with ribbon.” Stiles gasped and lifted his hand to touch the front of the collar. “They are all for you.”

Derek reached up, carefully moving Stiles’ hand to untie the ring hanging from the collar. Pulling it out from under the puppy who tried to bite at Derek’s hand, he held it up to Stiles. The light in the kitchen caught the turquoise band around the middle of it. “Stiles, will you marry me?” Derek asked.

“I...I…” Stiles’ mouth wasn’t forming the words, but he nodded and tried to hold out his left hand that still had the puppy in it.

“Say ‘yes!’” Ansel shouted, followed by a chant of the same from the rest of his family. 

“Yes! Of course, yes!” Stiles said as Derek stood, taking the puppy under one arm and sliding the ring onto Stiles’ freed hand with the other. He bent down to share a kiss, trying to ignore the cheering of his family that surrounded him.

The kiss ended in laughter when one of Derek’s younger cousins finally shouted. “Can we open presents now?”

Breaking apart, Stiles and Derek stayed in the kitchen for another moment, brushing their noses together and smiling. “You didn’t, like, rent the puppy, did you?”

“Of course not,” Derek said, pressing a kiss to first the tip of Stiles’ nose and then the puppy’s, who was trying to climb up Derek and in between their faces. “He’s all yours.”

“Does he have a name?” 

“You tell me. He’s yours,” Derek said, handing the puppy over to Stiles and grabbing their mugs off the kitchen island.

“Dorian,” Stiles said without hesitation, and Derek ducked his head to hide his smile. “And he’s ours.”

“Ours,” Derek responded, holding both mugs in one hand and using the other against the small of Stiles’ back to guide him into the other room. The cousins were getting louder with their impatience over waiting to open presents.

They were in the doorway when Ansel shouted for them to stop. In unison, Stiles and Derek looked above themselves to see the mistletoe from the year before hanging in the doorway. “Do you think they’ll ever get tired of seeing us kiss?” Derek asked, pressing his forehead to Stiles’.

“Have you met your family?” Stiles asked, laughing as he moved in to press their lips together. Derek’s family let out a cheer, and he couldn’t help but be eternally thankful for his mother’s love of taking in strays.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you made it this far? I'm so glad!
> 
> Here is a rendering of Dorian that I made in Sims:  
> 
> 
> Big thanks to Sarah for inspiring "Biles the Boa."
> 
> Come say 'hi' on tumblr! I'm 'josjournal' over there!


End file.
